The Nerdy Life of Wallace West
by UnePetiteHistoire
Summary: AU:Wallace West is a dork, the maladroit of humanity-complete with argyle sweatervests and chemistry pick-up lines. But when he has to move from Keystone City to Gotham, how will he cope? When a chemistry experiment fails, and Wallace gets powers, will he ever be cool? Who's that intimidating yet attractive biker chick, Artemis? updated slowly ...Spitfire.
1. Moving

Wallace West stood in the center of his bedroom, or what was left of it. The light yellow walls were finally exposed, after years of being hidden behind a shell of Flash posters. Areas were the walls once peeked from behind the posters were a darker yellow, dappling the room with a strange pattern of rectangles. Next to the ajar door, suitcases were neatly stacked with Wallace's collection ironed shirts and argyle sweater vests, his beloved choice of clothing. Though at school he was often ridiculed for his stereotypical "nerd" attire, Wallace, was unfazed and continued to sport a new argyle sweater daily, heeding to his parents' mottos of individuality and sticks and stone breaking bones and the harmless effects of words.

A large vintage suitcase, a gift from Wally's late Great Aunt was carefully reserved for his vast collection of Flash merchandise accumulated during his life in Keystone City. Its worn-leather exterior was decorated with Flash stickers, ranging from shiny large lighting insignias to stickers of the Flash himself, striking various heroic poses. While most teenage boys collected Playboy magazines and other explicit content, Wallace collected as much Flash merchandise he could get his hands on. In his case, living near the Flash's Central City was a boon, for it granted him access to a multitude of Flash stores.

Wallace inhaled the dusty air deeply, and let out a large sigh.

He knew moving was a difficult process—he had read enough books about a character immigrating or moving from one place to another, at first hating the move and then liking it in the end. But until now, he was never able to empathize. Surely, a move from one block to another wouldn't be as intimidating, but a move from the small Keystone City to the notorious Gotham was overwhelming. His father was given an unexpected and large promotion, which would pay double, if not triple his current salary (which was quite a good salary itself). But like all good things, there was always a catch; with this catch being quite unpleasant, in Wallace's opinion.

Yes, they had found a nice mansion on the upper-end of Gotham, equipped with an in-ground swimming pool. But what use was a swimming pool to a young man who was too immersed in comic books and conducting byzantine chemistry experiments? To the red-headed teen, a middle-sized backyard for lounging with a novel at hand was good enough, thank-you very much.

Wallace walked to his window and looked at the faint Central City skyline against the blue sky. Sure Wallace would miss Keystone City, which served as the location of his birth, as well as his home. He would miss loved ones like his Uncle Barry, who always brought home a new piece of Flash merchandise form a "secret source" (which was never disclosed), as well as his Aunt Iris, who always announced his birthday every year on the news. But most of all, Wallace would miss the Flash.

Memories clouded Wallace's eyes as he recalled the day when the Flash had made his debut. Even at six, the flame-haired tot had been fascinated at the Scarlet Speedster's ability to save the day, almost effortlessly with a single stride. He had been inspired to an extent to where he had chosen the Flash (along with numerous other young fan-boys) for his 3rd grade "Role-model" project (and received a gold star and an A+). Gotham's protector was the dark elusive Batman, who was the stark opposite of the light-hearted camera-loving Flash. Batman had a side-kick as well, the young Robin. Though both the Dark Knight and his protégé rarely appeared on TV talk shows or interviews, it was obvious that Robin was no older than Wallace himself. Pausing, the young teen took a moment to imagine what it would be like to be the Flash's sidekick. He would be called something cool like Flash-boy or Speedy—wait that was already taken by Green Arrow's partner.

Shaking his envious thoughts away, Wallace focused on the task that was at hand. Gingerly with great care, his peeled the tape off of his last Flash poster. It was a small, mundane poster with the Flash insignia, colors fading, divided with a plethora of creases. On the corner in messy cursive scribbled with black sharpie it read, "Happy Birthday, Wally". Uncle Barry had given it to Wallace on his 10th birthday, and gotten it signed when he was saved from some thugs from the Flash himself. What increased the poster's value was that Flash had signed it "Wally" and not "Wallace". This small detail was most likely the Flash writing in shorthand, but it made Wally feel special and closer to the vigilante since it was a pet-name only his relatives and friends used.

A soft, barely audible knock on the door startled Wallace from his fond recollections.

"Um… Hey Wally".

It was Linda Park, a demure slender girl with flowing black hair and almond eyes. Linda had first been acquainted with Wallace as his lab partner in AP Chemistry. To Wallace's dismay, she had proved to be a klutz, mixing up the 2M and .5M HCl acids for their first lab. But through Wallace's expertise and guidance, she had mastered the techniques of "heating to a constant mass" and "reacting to completion" quite nicely. Since then, Linda and Wallace had become close friends, despite her being more of a Superman fan than a Flash one. To Wallace's dismay, their friendship had been just that: a friendship. He was pushed to in infamous "friend-zone" despite his attempts to make their acquaintance something deeper. Attempts of flirting had usually ended up as poorly told chemistry jokes and pickup lines like "If I were an enzyme, I'd be DNA helicase so I could unzip your genes" or "You're hotter than a Bunsen burner set to full power". But Linda just smiled and changed the subject so Wallace wouldn't further embarrass her and himself and so their friendship would remain intact.

"Hey Linda," Wallace replied cheerfully, but his voice came out hoarse and cracked, since he hadn't spoken to anyone all morning.

"Look, I really hope we can keep in touch… But I—we will all miss you" she replied, light heartedly.

"Yeah, we-we'll definitely keep in touch" Wallace cracked a small grin.

Linda took a small step towards Wally before running (much to his surprise) enveloping him in a warm hug.

"Wally, I swear, if you don't call or chat with me on Facebook, I will hire Batman to hunt you down!" she scolded. Her voice was shaky but she kept her façade, so Wallace's departure wouldn't be as painful.

"Don't worry Linda, I will," Wallace replied coolly. He could feel heat rising to his face and his glasses fog up. He didn't want to let go of Linda, Keystone City, Aunt Iris and Uncle Barry, or her rhubarb pies.

The tender moment wasn't prolonged.

"Wally! Come bring your bags downstairs! The movers are here!" his Mom's shrill voice sounded downstairs with an excited and impatient edge.

Linda was the first to break away from the hug. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were watery, but with a small sniffle, she still kept her smile, which forced Wallace to do the same.

"Coming Mom!" Wallace shouted back, his voice still abnormally hoarse.

Wally closed the Flash-merchandise suitcase and carried it as well as another exceptionally large suitcase downstairs. Despite being a comic-book "dork", Wallace's mom had forced her son to exercise and stay in shape, so she could feed him as many pies as he wanted and she could make, since the teenager had quite a large appetite (he was a growing boy, of course!).

"Do you need any help?" Linda questioned as Wallace carried the suitcases precariously down the steps.

"I'm good, babe," he grinned, flashing his pearly whites at Linda, who simply rolled her eyes in a jocular fashion.

Wallace climbed the steps of the mansion to pick his room. The house was bigger than he had anticipated, with a perfect green lawn and trimmed hedges. The plane ride was long—approximately three hours, but to a boy with a short attention span, it felt like 10. Most of the ride, Wallace had spent re-reading his comic books, watching tedious sitcoms and (attempting to) flirt with the air-hostesses. But since one of the air-hostesses glared quite murderously at the sweater-vest sporting teenager, Mrs. West had given Wallace a look that had left him mum for the remainder of the journey.

Gotham City was crowded, maybe too crowded for Wallace to handle. Being from Keystone, Wallace was accustomed to the occasional zephyrs and uncontaminated air. But in Gotham, the sky was darkened, and sunlight barely penetrated through the tall towering skyscrapers. The whole scenario reminded Wallace about the rainforest documentary he had viewed on the Animal Planet—how the forest floor was dark and littered with decaying plants, shielded from sunlight due to the foliage overhead.

Thankfully, the Wests had purchased a home in the more "suburb" part of Gotham, a place where the pollution was significantly less, and the sunlight a bit brighter.

Wallace climbed the final step and looked down the dark corridor. There were five doors, all closed. But some instinct guided the ginger teen to the last one of the right. Hesitantly, he turned the brass knob. The white-washed vinyl door opened without a squeak of a hinge, a sound he was familiar to when he entered his bedroom back at ho—Keystone City. The bitter-sweet memories rose like bile in Wallace's throat but he pushed them back down.

_This is my home now._ He reprimanded himself. _Gotham City…_


	2. First Day: Part 1

**Thanks for the reviews guys! Please feel free to leave any suggestions or point out any errors! :D Onwards to chapter 2! Sorry for the weird paragraphs in chapter one, but my Word didn't indent for some reason. I tried to fix that with weird double spacing and…yeah it just got ugly… Hope this one is better in format! Don't worry "Wallace" will be Kid Flash soon ;) Get ready for a long and descriptive chapter…**

Chapter 2: First Day of School: Part 1

"_Good Job, Wally," a certain Scarlet Speedster grinned. There was genuineness in his tone as he ruffled Wallace's wind-blown ginger hair lightly in affection. _

_A similar smile spread across Wallace's face and he felt his cheeks warm up to the compliment. He was finally back in Central City, alongside the Flash, but not as a by-stander, but a sidekick. On Wallace's body was a foreign skin-hugging yellow Spandex suit, similar to the one of the older speedster. The sun shone brightly over-head, and birds chirped merrily as a soft breeze blew through the air, sending a shiver down Wallace's spine. He had just assisted the Flash in taking down some burglars with newly obtained super speed. In this reverie, Wallace's mind had not bothered to explain that the super-speed was not real, but the reality of the illusion was enough to trick Wallace's unconscious that it was._

_Reporters swarmed the two heroes like ants to sugar, inquiring about the situation. Not far behind were teary-eyed young girls waving their arms in Wallace's direction to catch his attention. Wallace grinned cheekily in their direction, causing them to swoon and squeal in delight. To the flame-headed teenager, it felt like the Halcyon days…_

_The tender moment was interrupted by a loud, deafening noise that caused the Flash to wither in pain and fall to his knees. The reporters around them vanished, and the sun was eclipsed instantly by the moon. Air felt thick with ominous tension, making it difficult to breathe. _

"_No! A-are you o-ok Flash?" Wallace rushed frantically to the fallen speedster's side. The blare that echoed around them was increasing in intensity; clouding his thoughts and judgment, making him stumbles as well. Despite the difficulties, Wallace kept his eyes trained on the withering superhero. His own ears started to bleed profusely, blemishing his bright yellow costume with carmine blood…_

Wallace's olive green eyes fluttered open in alarm and urgency. His heart pounded rapidly in his chest, louder than it ever had in his life. His ears deafened with the loud throbbing, and echos of his heartbeat. Fiery red hair was plastered to his forehead in a cold sweat. His linen Flash nightie was wet with perspiration, and sticking to his skin uncomfortably.

An incessant beeping sound droned the still air around his bedroom, causing Wallace's eyes to fixate blankly in fear. He waited motionless for minutes, in anticipation for some monstrous goblin; or worse, _Batman_ to snatch him from his slumber, before realizing that there was no threat. The haunting murderous noise in his dream was merely the augmented translation of his Flash alarm clock.

The dream. Wallace swallowed, eased his breathing and closed his eyes. He had dreamt that he was running at supersonic speeds alongside the Flash. Fighting crime… Saving the day…. And getting the ladies… If only his life was really that simple. But the conclusion of such a dream had ended so tragically… Could the Flash be in danger?

_Of course not, silly! _Wallace thought frantically, attempting to ease his nerves of the horrid thought. _He's the Flash! _

When he had finally returned his heart beat to normal through deep breaths, Wallace focused on the present.

Today was the day; the day where life of Wallace Rudolph West would start on a tableau-rasa (blank slate). It had been a week since the Wests have moved into the mansion, and already it was decorated with new furniture that Mrs. West had spent hunting on the internet. The neighbors had done their best to be the cliché "friendly" neighbors, bringing over gourmet sweets and other delicious delectable in the form of house-warming presents (much to Wallace's delight). His mother had fit in perfectly with the other women, throwing lavish pot-lucks and kitty parties on a regular basis. Meanwhile, his father loved his new position, as well as "bringing home the bacon". Life was running quite smoothly for the Wests in Gotham, their new home. Wallace finally had his personal lab in his home with brand new Bunsen burners and fume hood, which allowed for him to execute a large scope of experiments. It definitely beat the dingy tool shed in their old backyard with a small hole in the roof to eliminate hazardous vapors. He had conducted many dehydrations, and acid-base neutralization reactions to brush up on his organic chemistry skills, anticipating the bio-chemistry classes that would be offered in the "prestigious" Gotham Academy. Soon enough, Mrs. West had discovered Wallace spending too much time in the "chem-cave" and forced him into his red and yellow flash swimming trunks and spf 50 Banana Boat sunscreen. So begrudgingly, he marched to their pool by lazily, blew up a floatie (which was quite difficult) and spent the rest of the afternoon lounging on an inflatable device whilst re-reading his favorites like _The Universe in a Nutshell_, and _Introduction to Quantum Mechanics with Applications to Chemistry_. He had also unintentionally acquired a golden tan and extra freckles on his nose as a bonus.

Shaking his thoughts away, Wallace rose out of his bed and quickly tidied the red and yellow sheets the best way he could—ignoring the wrinkles and creases—and hobbled sleepily to his bathroom.

After a long hot shower, and scrubbing himself until his skin felt raw, Wallace parted his wet red hair to the side and combed it neatly. When he was satisfied with the "good, innocent boy" look, he squirted a small pea-sized drop of gel in his palms and rubbed it well in to his hair, giving it a wet slick finish. Wallace did all of this blindly, since he hadn't bothered to put on his glasses since they would fog up instantly after the shower. But for the next task, he knew not wearing them was inevitable.

Squinting his olive green eyes he finally found his dark plastic-rimmed spectacles and carefully pushed them on his freckled nose. It was amazing how glasses could change one's whole perspective…

Bringing his face up to the large vanity, Wallace scrutinized his visage for pimples and blemishes. Luckily, thanks to his proper skin hygiene and the genes from his parents, Wallace did not have a terrible acne problem. But Wallace was a teen after all (shocker!), and like all teens, he was not exempt from puberty and its horrid side-effects in the form of breakouts. But that's what Proactive was for, wasn't it? Wallace let out a sigh of relief after rubbing his fingers over his smoothly shaven cheeks and not discovering a hint of a red bulbous monstrosity. In fact, his skin was always healthy and glowing, contrary to the popular belief that all nerds and geeks possessed horrid pimple-infested faces. Besides his sweater-vests, tucked shirt tails, pleated pants, bowties, glasses and hairstyle, Wallace did not exhibit any stereotypical nerd characteristics. He for one had perfect white teeth, without the help of braces, a nice build rather than a "pencil-neck" and hunched figure, and golden skin opposed to the pale, sun-burn susceptible one of the "typical nerd". But Wallace could care less about his social status. He enjoyed the benefits of being a nerd, for example, getting straight A's and not having to live up to the austere expectations of society and the high-school hierarchy. The downsides weren't that bad either. Yes, Wallace didn't always get the girl, but it wasn't like he was desperate. Linda was the only girl he ever liked; and no, it was not because her hair was long and smelled like flowers, or her almond eyes always warm and kind, but rather because she was always there for him. But since that importunate "friend-zoned" event, Wallace was distraught. Of course he flirted, (or attempted to) with any woman regardless of looks or age, but it felt superficial, since he didn't feel that inner-gut, cliché "twitter-patter" in his heart as much as he wanted.

After quickly slipping in his crisp white cotton shirt, and buttoning carefully (it would be inefficient to unbutton and re-button if one button was missed), Wallace hunted for the perfect "first-day-of-school" sweater vest he would sport. The first day of Gotham Academy was a dress-down day, which allowed for Wallace to dodge from wearing the mandatory prissy blazer uniform (he never had found himself to be the blazer-type) and dress-shoes (red converses were much better). After rummaging deeper, he came across a plain black sweater vest, and quickly rejected it, since he did not wish to dress so gloomily on the start of a new life. The next one he encountered was the viridian one that Aunt Iris had knitted herself. It was dull, and tight for Wallace's broader chest and shoulders, but he had still kept it for its sentimental value. After a couple more minutes, Wallace came across an orchid-yellow argyle sweater vest with crisscrossing blue stripes, and he knew his search had come to a close. That specific sweater vest was a sweet 16 birthday present from Linda, and Wallace had sworn the he would reserve it for a very special day, much like today. After slipping the valuable vest on, Wallace picked out the final accessory: a bowtie that matched his eyes, before heading down the large flight of stairs.

"Wallace, chew slowly, the bus-stop's just a block down!" Mrs. West scolded. She was dressed handsomely in a navy blazer and custom-fitted pencil skirt for her job-interview as an accountant at the Gotham City bank. She handed both Mr. West and Wallace their morning fresh-brew before busying herself with the preparation of a PB&J for Wallace's lunch.

"Don't worry, Mary," Mr. West chuckled, eyes still on the morning's newspaper. "They boy is just excited for his first day at Gotham Academy!"

"Yeah," Wallace responded, in between mouthfuls of waffles and cinnamon pop-tarts. He took the coffee mug and took two sips, face scrunching at its bitter, pungent taste. He had just recently convinced his mother that he was ready for coffee, since he was already sixteen and drinking coffee was a symbol of "being grown-up". With a heavy sigh and a look of adoration of her "not-so-little-boy", Mrs. West had agreed that a morning brew would suffice—no more, no less.

After washing down the bitter taste with a chug of orange juice, Wallace jumped out of his seat, grabbed his leather satchel (better known as man-purse) stocked with newly sharpened HB 2 pencils, fountain pens and a hardcover copy of _Mockingjay_ (Linda had forced him to read the Hunger Games trilogy, and it wasn't half as bad as he thought it would be—after all, Team Peeta all the way!).

"Wallace, aren't you forgetting something?" his mother inquired, teasingly. Her smile was mischievous, and a manicured finger tapped her cheek.

Groaning, but obediently, Wallace ran back into the kitchen, pecked his mother on the cheek, and rushed out the door before his father decided to ask for one.

The weather outside was chillier than Wallace had expected, but thankfully, his sweater vest was effective at keeping him warm. Rays of sunlight peeked from the east, giving the Gotham skyline a heavenly glow. The ground was still moist from last night's rain showers, and the smell created by the Actinomycetes gave the air its post-rain earthy scent. His neighbors were driving off to work nonchalantly, mugs of coffee at hand and keys jingling while and the birds sang merry tunes which would cease as winter crept upon them. Waving hello to Mrs. Benson across the street, Wallace continued walking his way, excitement making his whole body tingle.

_I wonder what kinds of people I'll meet… Probably everyone would be a Batman fan… Maybe I could join the dork group there. But what if they don't have one? I wonder what the girls would be like—probably snobs… No one beats Linda Park. I hope they have extracurricular clubs, like Math club, and the academic decathlon! And who knows, maybe I can sign up for track to sprint like the Flash—wait, scratch that… I definitely don't want to stay every day after school 'till five exerting my muscles and risking shin-splints! _Wallace thought frantically. _Calm down, today's just the first day, reserved for making friends and showing smarts in all subjects!_

Stopping under the red bus-stop sign, Wallace glanced at his Flash watch. It was just 6:45. According to his calculations (and the help of the Gotham Academy webpage), the bus would most likely be arriving in…now?

A faint humming sound of a motor was audible in the tranquility of the neighborhood. Before Wallace knew it, he saw a motorcyclist rush by him, with a large mane of wavy beach-blond hair trailing behind. A large splash had been created a large puddle, but due to Wallace's quick thinking and surprisingly good reflexes, a wardrobe catastrophe had been averted as he jumped out if the way in the nick of time. At this point, Wallace's heat was racing, and face was hot with anger and surprise at the quickly disappearing blonde ponytail. How dare that careless man in need of a haircut put his precious sweater in harm's way?

"Hey! You insolent thug! Watch what way you drive! By the way you need a haircut!" Wallace yelled shaking his fists in fury. The motorcyclists probably couldn't even hear him over the obnoxious hum of the motor, but when Wallace's favorite sweater vest was in harm's way, the ginger headed boy couldn't contain himself.

He was so immersed in his contempt for the careless biker that he did not even notice as a luxurious black limo pulled up beside the bus stop. Wallace was startles as the last door of the limo stopped in front of him. Surely, this wasn't the bus, right? The window was dark and lustrous, allowing Wallace to see his flushed visage. Lucking, his hair wasn't out of place, but his bowtie was a bit crooked. Before he could reach up to fix it, the glass rolled down slowly to reveal a pale young boy with cobalt blue eyes staring at Wallace with a playful sparkle. Like Wallace's hair, the boy's dark black hair was slick back handsomely. The face looked familiar…

"Good morning, I presume since you live in this neighborhood, you must be an enrollee of Gotham Academy, am I right?" the boy spoke. The articulateness of his words was ruined by the fact that he was going through puberty, and his voice cracked in a comical way after each phrase.

Wallace nodded slowly, mind still distracted as he attempted to decipher the boy's identity. _He looks so familiar… Could he be a celebrity? _

"Well, have a seat then! I am Richard Grayson by the way, sophomore at Gotham Academy. But many of my peers adore to call me by my pet-name, Dick," he chuckled.

"D-Dick Gra-Grayson? As in the ward of the richest man in the world, BRUCE WAYNE?" Wallace stuttered. Hello Wallace! This boy was a star!

The boy simply chucked at Wallace's awestruck reaction, unfazed as if he had dealt with many ogling commoners before. He opened the door, scooted over and beckoned Wallace with a pat of his hand on an adjacent leather seat.

Hesitantly, Wallace crept inside, and took the seat. His mother had always warned him to never jump inside a stranger's car, but this was _Dick Grayson_ for heaven's sake! It was a privilege to sit in his limousine!

"So I presume you are new here?" Dick asked.

"Yes," Wallace replied enthusiastically in between a sip of the carbonated beverage Dick had offered him.

"You should join me and my friends then! I am the president of the Mathlete Team, and a member of the gymnastics team. You should join! But of course, there are other extracurricular activities as well, so please don't feel obliged to join."

"N-No! I simply love math! I would love to be part of it! As for gymnastics, let's just say I have two-left feet in all sports," Wallace joked.

"Ahh, I see," Dick replied.

Just as Wallace was about to take another sip, a yellow flash caught his eye. The limousine had stopped at a traffic light, and next to it was… no other than that obnoxious motorcyclist. Anger welling up inside him, Wallace peered secretly over the window to take a better look at the rude biker.

"Artemis Crock, a Wayne scholarship recipient, age 16, junior," Dick replied rather nonchalantly, which surprised Wallace since his "subtleness" wasn't so "subtle" after all. But what surprised him even more was the fact that that aggressive motorist was a girl and not a rough rowdy tattooed man as he had previously imagined. But as he looked closer, he realized that she was a girl, despite her visage hidden by a green helmet. Before Wallace could inspect her any further, the signal changed to green, and the mysterious blonde ponytail had already taken off.

**Ok, so this first day chapter will be divided into two parts because in my opinion, it turned out longer than I anticipated. I think I got carried away with describing Wallace's dorkiness, but I think it's really adorable!~ **


	3. First Day: Part 2

Sorry it took so long! D: ENJOY! (but don't flame! D:)

If you've been wondering what Wallace looks like, I drew him on my dA account! (link's on my profile, cuz for some reason, the link won't show)

* * *

-Chapter 3

The limousine careened smoothly into the large driveway between opened steel gates. The campus was like an oasis in a barren wasteland of Gotham City's skyscrapers. The Academy buildings was large and new, resembling the preppy private schools that were usually seen in movies: complete with reddish-brown exteriors, windows framed by white and courtyard floors so clean, they looked like they belonged inside rather than outdoors. The shrubbery that fringed the driveway was ornately trimmed into abstract geometric shapes (Wallace was certain he had spotted a state-of-the-art dodecahedron hedge) complemented by a flurry of exotic flowers, put together to spell out "Gotham Academy" in florid letters.

The student parking lot also lived up to Gotham Academy's reputation; it was filled with exotic sports cars from Ferraris and Porches, colored from pink to orange, and everything in between. The students leaned against their rides smartly in designer leather jackets and preppy polos, talking amongst each other, hoping to pass time until the first bell of the morning.

The limousine stopped moving at the pick-up and drop-off section of the school. Every wealthy erudite of the school exited out of a lustrous black limousine or a Bentley, which made Wallace feel relieved that Dick had decided to generously car-pool. Normally, Wallace didn't consider others' opinions of him—he liked wearing sweater vests, and he didn't give a damn about what the neighborhood bully or head cheerleader thought of that. However, this scenario was of different breed. For starters, it essentially was the start of a new life, and going to a rich exclusive school required to make some statement. But surely coming to school with the world-renowned ward was significant? But looking back at Dick, Wallace realized that the black haired boy appeared as a regular kid, texting on his smart phone, and quietly giggling to himself—like any other teen. But if Dick was considered "regular," what would the other students think of Wallace, whose family wealth was newly attained?

_What in tarnation am I thinking? _Wallace thought, annoyed at his sudden personal interest and concern in social class. _Am I in the __Great Gatsby_, _or something? Sheesh! New wealth and old wealth… Hello Wally! 21__st__ century! _

Dick looked up, his blue eyes, clouded with concern. "Dude, you nervous?" he inquired innocently, voice subtle with concern.

Wallace, face flushed made a quick eye contact and shook his head in embarrassment before continuing his examination of the Gotham Academy campus.

_Geez, pull yourself together, man! Do you really want to weird out the only "friend" you have in Gotham? _Wallace berated mentally.

Many students were talking on their expensive phones, or sitting under shades of exotic late summer flowering trees on customized Macbooks. The girls were attractive in sporty high ponytails of straight dyed hair and pink makeup blushes, complete with their designer handbags, jackets and lip gloss smiles. But in Wallace's eyes, they looked artificial—not even close to the hotness range of Linda's natural beauty. But no one raised a brow as Dick's long limousine rolled up and halted in the drop-off zone.

Wallace was startled and almost choked on his seltzer water when an aged man with early signs of frontal hair balding pattern obstructed his vision through the window at the end of Dick's limousine and gently opened the door. The man sported a well-fitted black tail-coat and pearl-white silk gloves—well above the standards of the typical "butler attire".

His eyes were squinted, and wrinkles appeared on his late middle-aged visage as he elegantly handed Dick's designer backpack to its rightful owner. A thin French-villain moustache that complemented the old man's thin lips made Wallace chuckle mentally. Was this a butler or a musketeer from Alexandre Dumas's book?

"We have arrived at the desired destination, Master Richard, and..?" he spoke in a monotone British accent, voice raising a pitch as he looked curiously in Wallace's direction. He held his nose high in a snobbish manner, clearly not pleased with the presence of the ginger teenager in the sweater vest and pleated pants in his master's car.

"Wallace. Wallace West," Wallace replied politely, forcing each word out to the aged haughty man. He had witnessed the absurdities of British butlers on television –from snobby attitudes to their freshly pressed uniforms—and Dick's butler fit the image perfectly.

"Well good day to you Mr. West and it was a delight to drive you here on _your first day_. I am Alfred Pennyworth," he replied, coolly, offering a gesture that spoke "good day to you and please exit the car".

Wallace stiffened and was about to quip with some absurd Lord of the Rings reference, but was interrupted quite conveniently just as his mouth opened.

"Ok, Alfred, you can pick me and Wallace here up around 4:30. Make my favorite fries and hamburgers when I get back, okay?" Dick replied nonchalantly at the skinny wrinkled man, grabbing his bag and slinging it carelessly over his scrawny shoulder. Wallace followed suit, glad to get "Penny Alf-worth's" degrading gaze off his back.

"Wait, 4:30? I thought school ended at 2:15," Wallace sputtered, second-doubting himself (which was relatively new to the boy). He was sure that days before the school had started; he had gone to the website and looked up the times. Of course Gotham Academy was special with its prestigious alumni, student and faculty body, but was it possible for a private school—no matter the level of fame— to last this long?

Dick simply chucked as his black limousine elegantly rolled away and patted Wallace's back gently, which was awkward since Dick was quite short in stature.

"Extra-circulars, my friend, extra-circulars," he grinned deviously, blue eyes twinkling in a sadistic delight, which sent a shiver down the ginger's spine.

"C'mon I'll introduce you to the food chain," Dick interrupted, breaking the awkward silence between the two boys.

They were walking around the courtyard, pretty much ignored by the girls and other students with the exception on a red-head girl "Betty Gordoff" or something along the lines of that (Wallace wasn't the best when it came to remembering the names of anything but elements) nabbed Dick of the "summer assignments" that were due on the first day of class. Wallace was soon able to deduct from this observation that Dick wasn't exactly the "high school hotshot" within the steel gates of Gotham Academy.

"Y-Yeah, of course," Wallace stammered. He had moved on to marveling the perfection of his new education establishment, his soon-to-be-peers, as well as the execution behind the trimming of the intricate hedges (he still couldn't believe that they had one of a dodecahedron!)

Dick almost disappeared instantaneously between the crevices formed by various cliques and friend groups that Wallace had to keep a jogging pace to keep up (luckily he was in great shape due to daily jogs around the block). Finally, when Dick decided to slow down and wait for Wallace, he discreetly pointed to a middle sized group of around 20 kids who looked quite intimidating.

"Those are the jocks, normally I don't label but it's quite obvious who they are and how they want to show themselves to the rest of the student body" Dick chuckled. "Just try to stay out of their way. Their daddies all own enterprises affiliated with my Dad's".

Wallace was surprised that Dick called the illustrious Bruce Wayne his "father" when the media referred to him as a philanthropic billionaire who decided to keep his own ward. Deciding not to question and possibly rub salt in wounds, Wallace decided to switch to another question (which was quite easy since Wallace had always been quick on his feet).

"So how come you aren't affiliated with them? Wouldn't it seem normal that they would try to get close to you to get to Wayne Enterprises?" Wallace inquired, attempting to keep his tone as relaxed as possible.

"Eh. Not my friend type. I usually like people who are there for me, and not just trying to use me for my background or my homework," Dick grinned, as they continued to traverse the "forest" of high-schoolers.

Wallace grinned back, in a truly genuine manner. He admired the young dark haired boy—despite being possibly the richest 13 year old, he was smart, and _real_, and possibly the best friend material Wallace had and probably will ever have. Just that feeling made the ginger smile even brightly.

"So I guess I fit that criterion?" Wallace replied in a light-hearted tone, eagerly anticipating an answer.

"Well so far, you seem like a pretty cool guy," Dick replied coolly, but Wallace couldn't shy away at the irony of the term. But an answer was an answer, and this answer indicated that Wallace was probably officially initiated into Dick's clique (if it even existed).

One less burden on his back, for now.

Wallace examined the group carefully, inspecting each face with his grass green eyes from behind his thick plastic rimmed glasses. He has seen enough of this sort of "exclusive" group from back in Central City, since basically they had attempted to make his life a living hell. But these jocks were different. Maybe because these ones were probably a million times richer than the ones back home, making them a kind of "double-treat". One of them was stoic muscular teenager with sun-kissed skin, piercing blue eyes and jet black messy hair, a stark contrast from Dick's mellow deep blue irises, and dark ruffled top. The girls were well-built with athletic bodies, spray-tans and platinum blonde highlights. One less "artificial" girl that caught his attention was a petite freckled girl with auburn hair and hazel eyes. Unlike the rest of the jocks, she had actually bothered to look in Dick and Wallace' direction and cheerfully greet them with a simple hello. Wallace's heart actually fluttered for the first time since his devastating parting with Linda, but then, it stopped instantaneously when the femme fatale leaned over and pecked the dark-haired intimidating jock on the cheek.

Wallace sighed and looked at the cut granite stone that covered the base of the courtyard. He couldn't help but sigh at the scene when the adorable girl had kissed that dark-haired boy. She was the only good-looking Wallace-material that had come across all day! And _who_ does she prefer? Definitely not tan freckled faces and carrot tops. Nope. It's the tall dark and handsome. Isn't it always?

Dick, who apparently possessed psychic powers as well as affluence, grinned broadly at Wallace's dismay as the continued walking past the herds of cliques.

"Don't worry, there are plenty of fish in the sea!" he chuckled, and pat Wallace's back gently.

"Yeah, easy for you to say! With puberty, you'd probably end up looking like him and getting the cute girl!" Wallace quipped.

"Whoa, chillax, dude! You definitely have the criteria that many girls around here are looking for! And thanks, I always wonder when my growth spurt will come," Dick relied, not offended at all at Wallace's abrupt reply.

Maybe Wallace was just frustrated with the overwhelming details his brain had accumulated, along with the poly-atomics and oxidation numbers he had reviewed last night. Maybe it was the lack of sleep from that Flash-death dream. Maybe…maybe it was because he missed Linda way too much and it got in the way of his thinking, and that cute girl resembled the almond-eyed beauty.

Wallace shrugged and tightened his grasp on the leather strap of his satchel, and hastened his pace.

Despite there still being one more hour until the home-room bell was due to ring, the courtyard was now bustling more than ever with students. As he got accustomed to his surroundings, Wallace realized that the student atmosphere was very similar to the one back home, especially now since it was dress-down day, he could distinguish the girly-girls from the punks. This familiarity in the social hierarchy comforted the freckled teen, and made his life easier since he already knew what clique he was in now, and had an acquaintance in Dick.

The blue-eyed ward paused in his trek between a small patch of grass integrated on the campus courtyard that housed a maple tree, colorful bunches of chrysanthemums _and_ the anime-fan girl group. The girls were debating whether some Naruto (which Wallace could have sworn was in Ramen) or Sassy-kay was better. Since Dick avoided then, Wallace decided to do the same, since it was obvious who had more experience in Gotham Academy.

"I usually avoid them because they think I look like one of their anime characters… and they beg me to cosplay and bribe me with 300 dollars," Dick shuddered.

Wallace simply smirked. 300 dollars was probably equivalent to 10 bucks back at Keystone High.

Dick paused and his face lit up in a teasing troll-like grin as he pointed subtly to a medium sized clique dressed in what appeared to be leather jackets and ripped jeans.

But that wasn't all.

Wallace was 96% confident that the mysterious rude biker-girl, what's-her-name was part of the group as well, and man, she looked different.

She was slender, and sported a brown, body-hugging weathered leather jacket, and a V-neck with a vintage print of the Union Jack. Dark denims, strategically ripped at the knees gave her a "bad-girl" vibe, intensified further by her matching leather boots with 1-inch heels. Her eyes were cat-shaped, irises gray and stormy, made prominent in her features with subtle makeup and dark lashes; which were a stark contrast from Linda's warm hazel irises. Her hair was the pièce de résistance that made Wallace's heart flutter again. It was long and wavy, a blonde beachy color, sleekly tied high in a ponytail, which complemented her healthy cool-shaded olive skin. Her face had barely any makeup, making an all-natural beauty (like Linda Park). She was definitely an item, in Wallace's book (then again, which girl wasn't?).

But Wallace's luck was non-present as always, as a pale tall boy with an awkward stance slung his arm on the blonde-vixen's shoulder, and sloppily pulled her close for a kiss. However, to Wallace's surprise, the girl, with amazing reflexes slapped the pale face away (before the wan lips could land on their mark) and shot a piercing glare at the scrawny owner, who shrunk back and shot a quick glance around in chagrin, obviously intimidated humiliated by the intensity of the "grayed-eyed goddess'" gaze.

"Get down!" Dick hissed, pushing Wallace behind the tree. Wallace, bemused by the sudden push let out a grunt of protest, but withheld it by biting on his tongue. Lucky for them, the pale boy hadn't seen them watching the scene with profound interest.

After, Wallace's heat beat returned to normal, Dick decided to break the silence.

"You're lucky that they broke up, 'ya know." Dick whispered excitedly to Wallace, pushing a lose lock of black hair back to its former sleek state.

"Wha? I'm not even interested! Plus, she almost drenched me in a puddle this morning, and she's _obviously _not my type," Wallace retorted quickly. He wasn't a very good liar, and he hoped desperately his tan was dark enough to hide his flushing face. Plus, he wasn't interested in the bad girl type, and this girl looked dangerous. She even had the gall to push away that tall skinny boy. She and her gang looked quite different from the other prissy, neat, designer-geared girls at the school. Looks wise, she and Linda some similarities in features; for one, both had seductive eyes and defined features But closer inspection, this chick looked like she would spit in your food, and wasn't afraid to beat a guy up for just looking at her too long.

_Nothing like the sweet, girl-next-door Linda._

Wallace's thoughts were immediately interrupted with Dick's comment.

"Just saying, dude. She's pretty smart. Scholarship, remember? Plus, I'm 100% positive she's in most of your classes. Just hangs with the wrong crowd— not that I'm judging. I'm just a freshman, but I know she's on most of the jock's "to date soon" list. But I don't think we would fit our criteria," Dick was still grinning deviously; almost challenging to ask her out.

But Wallace knew too well, and decided to avoid the subject of the biker-girl.

"Pshh. I'm more of the intellectual-nerdy types. I need a girl that wouldn't mind going to the library or Newberry Comics on the first date" Wallace replied, with a careless wave of his hand.

"Yeah, then you might as well be dating the fangirls over there—"

Dick was cut off as melodious charming tune rung throughout the air. Most of the teens in the vicinity perked up and dispersed to random hallways and buildings that surrounded the courtyard, like dogs to a whistle. These kids sure were disciplined despite being spoiled!

"C'ya at lunch, Wallace! Your homeroom's probably in building one, room 310!" Dick replied brusquely and, like magic, disappeared into the sea of designer bags.

"Thanks." Wallace replied, apparently to thin air.

Wallace navigated efficiently throughout the Gotham Academy Campus since he had managed to save the map of the school onto his flash-charm-and-sticker-covered iPhone. From inside the school, Wallace began to realize that it was literally a maze, much like Hogwarts. He remembered the time when Linda, who was _addicted_ to the books on the scar-faced boy dragged him to see the movies. Though the effects were well-executed, Wallace had played along and pretended to be as excited as the dark-haired beauty since he was a firm disbeliever of magic. However, he had to admit he often imagined himself as Harry, and Linda as Cho Chang during the _Order of the Phoenix_, but he conveniently stopped "placing himself in the character's shoes" after he realized that Harry ended up with Ginny instead.

Too bad Gotham Academy didn't have interactive LCD screens masked as paintings. Magic or not, he could have at least asked the "Fat Lady" for directions.

"Okay, so I take a turn her—"

"OWW! WHAT THE HELL?"

Wallace's glasses flew off his face, and all he witnessed were blurs and splays of random yellow and brown hues, as he blindly dropped to his knees and scavenged for his scattered paper and folders.

"Watch where you're going, you little dork," the voice sounded again. It was a passionate raspy feminine voice, which Wallace normally would have found quite attractive—if it wasn't swearing at him at the moment.

Just then when Wallace thought he'd lost his glasses for sure, small cold olive-ish blurry hands handed familiar plastic into his palms. Gratefully, Wallace accepted the brief skin contact with a shiver before pushing the apparatus on his nose. As the universe cleared up, he realized that the girl was now gone, and another one had taken her place. This one in particular was helping Wallace pick up his papers with surprising alacrity.

It was that sweet petite freckled jock.

Wallace's heart skipped a beat.

"OMG, I hope you're not hurt of anything, I'm Meghan Morse, by the way! You must be, like, a new student! If you want, I can help you to your next class! OMG! Wow! We like have the same first class! Let's, like totes go there together!" she squealed, tone fluctuating so rapidly from sympathetic to shrill that Wallace could barely comprehend. He just let out a small comprehensive nod before pushing his glasses further up his nose and following the hyper girl through the swarming herds of rich privileged teenagers.

It was going to be a long day…

The chemistry room was quite large, and well-resourced with untouched chemistry equipment, from simple sparkling flasks, to a medium sized calorimeter, which must have cost a fortune (they didn't come cheap!). The desks were shared, and by the looks of it, most of them were occupied. Meghan's intimidating boyfriend perked up at the sight of the brunette beauty, but impatient relied changed at the sight of Wallace's presence next to her. The hostile brute simply glared at Wallace, even as Meghan hugged his broad shoulders tightly and cooed boyfriend-girlfriend gibberish in his ear. Gulping nervously, Wallace decided to look around for an empty seat, and like a boon, and cozy empty desk near the windows waited for him.

Not thinking, Wallace ran over to it, and sat down immediately, complacent with his keen eyes. Setting his satchel neatly near his feet, Wallace pulled out a fresh Flash-branded notebook, and a red mechanical pencil from his red Flash pencil-pouch. After arranging his supplies in an ornate fashion on his side of the desk, Wallace interlocked his fingers and anticipated for the start of the class.

The bell would ring… now.

On cue, the melodious tune resonated throughout the emptying halls and students outside hastened their paces.

"Alright. This class will now begin," the teacher stated. She was a strong tall woman in her 60's with an austere visage, and furrowed brows that reflected her dedication to teaching. Her attire was a simple blazer, knee-length skirt and dark stockings and inch heel black shoes. She reminded Wallace of those strict army-women in the movies that never kidded around and made "men" out of the "noobs".

"Hey. Am I late?"

The class, whose gaze was currently affixed on the new, intimidating professor, immediately turned to the direction of the voice.

It was Artemis.

The olive-skinned girl chewed loudly on a piece of pink gum, as if purposely attempting to further insult the teacher, and assert her own presence and dominance.

"Miss Crock, I presume," the teacher replied coolly. The aged woman didn't even raise a brow. "I will have a word with you after class about your _etiquette_. But for now, I would love for you to have a seat next to the handsome red-headed boy who was diligently awaiting the start of this class until _you so kindly interrupted_."

Gasps and surprised comments rose from the class, who now watched the scene unfold with profound interest.

"My pleasure," Artemis replied challengingly, cloudy eyes locked into the ones of the prof.

Wallace, mouth slightly agape, watched the golden-haired beauty carelessly pull out the chair, and take a seat next to him. She didn't even bother to look in his direction, and simply pulled out her iPhone and busied herself texting rapidly.

"We will be learning about the gas laws today, since I presume you all have excelled at the last chemistry class. So who can tell me what the ideal gas equation is?" the teacher looked around the room.

Most of the students yawned deeply, while others stared out into space. No one seemed to care, or even know the answer.

But luckily, Wallace Rudolph West did. He raised his hand immediately, hoping to get called upon, but to his dismay, the professor has something else in her mind.

"I already can infer you are a smart boy, Mr. West, and don't doubt that you know the answer to this question, so I choose your peer, Ms. _Crock _ to have at it at this one."

With disappointment, Wallace lowered his hand, and looked at Artemis, who was still chewing her gum, and texting on her phone.

"Miss Crock," the lady asked again, foot tapping gently on the newly-waxed floors.

"What?" Artemis replied with an impatient edge to her voice.

"The Ideal Gas Equation. Would you mind refreshing our memories by telling it to us?

"I thought we already passed chemistry one. Why are you making us do it over?" Artemis quipped boldly, sending small gasps from popular-girls in the back, while nods of agreement 8from many of the boys.

"If you passed Chemistry one, then I am sure you wouldn't mind telling it to us"

"You want the equation so badly, why don't you look it up yourself? You know, just to _refresh your memory_," Artemis smirked slyly.

"Miss Crock, if you don't wish to be expelled from Gotham Academy, please answer the question or let Mr. West, there answer it"

Artemis' eyes clouded in fear, and her face transformed from a rebellious teenager to a mature, sincere woman so quickly, that even the teacher became confused and softened her hard glare.

"It's PV=nRT. P, V, n, and T denote pressure, volume, number of moles, and temperature respectively, while R is the pressure constant. The more common R value is for ATMs, or atmospheres: 0.0821 J/K*mol," Artemis recited monotonously

The whole class, who already was immersed in the heated discourse, came on a standstill, including the teacher.

But the silence was broken when the teacher put her hands on her hips and considered what the class considered impossible: she _smiled_.

"Well done, Ms. Crock. If you keep behaving like this, you might was well become my favorite student!" the old lady grinned broadly, clearly satisfied with the blonde's complete response.

"Pshh in your dreams," Artemis muttered under her breath, and continued her incessant texting all throughout class, as the teacher rambled on about Boyle, Charles, and Gay-Lussac.

But strangely enough, Wallace Rudolph West wasn't paying attention (and that's saying something since Wallace lives chemistry!)

The ginger haired boy was too busy stealing glances at the girl currently seated next to him. Unlike himself, who was seated erectly, back against chair, she was slouched carelessly, eyes trained on the lit up screen of her cellular device. Lose stands from her golden hair softly framed her face, making her look innocent, which was obviously impossible after her whole spiel.

But Wallace pushed the thoughts away, and focused on Linda.

_Pull yourself together, man! Artemis isn't your type of girl! You need someone like Meghan or Linda. Right now, you will have to deal with this snarky chick for who knows how long_!

Maybe there was more to Artemis Crock than just being a bad-girl. She proved that she was smart and daring, standing up to the venerable teacher, as well as the judgmental eyes of her peers. Yet, at the same time, she knew where her limits were, since she immediately stopped her impressive come backs after a threat to her education was proposed. The other guys seemed interested in the hot-head as well, often attempting to get her attention with loudly obnoxious whispers that made Wallace's skin crawl, or notes, which they passed along to Wallace to give to her. When Wallace tried to hand the pieces of paper to her, she simply ignored him, and focused on the board while the professor wrote out Effusion rates on the board. But to their dismay (as well as Wallace's), Artemis ignored them all, and seated herself in her seemingly impenetrable anti-social bubble.

The bell rang, signaling the end of Chemistry Class

* * *

It will get interesting! ;)

Don't worry Wallace/Wally will get his powers soon...


	4. Fears

**OMG guys, I sincerely apologize for the delay. I know you guys don't have to forgive me and you all have the right to be upset. I started writing this in between finals and I promised myself I would finish as soon as school got out. Turns out around that time, my stupid laptop decided to be a bitch and die on me. Well, I finally got it up, so please review! I love feedback! (Yeah, it mentions the release of the Hunger Games movie… I wrote it a while ago…)**

**-PHR**

* * *

Chapter 4:

* Note: Chemistry teacher is now named Mrs. Briggs (yes, iCarly influences me…)

After the last bell finished echoing through the empty campus corridors, Mrs. Briggs walked in front of the clean chalkboard and smiled stiffly at her students. The woman looked quite intimidating in her loose silk tailleur and plat form heels, despite her small stature.

"Alrighty, class! Welcome, and good morning! I hope you all have prepared for this exam, as it will be the first one for the year. The format, as you all know, will include 10 multiple choice questions and 4 open response questions. I want all of you to give me your complete responses, with _all_ of your work. You will only have the allotted class time to complete this assessment. Good luck to you all, and may the odds ever be in your favor!" she said with a sadistic grin creating more artificial grooves on her aged Botox-face.

The class groaned at the lame "Hunger Games" quote Mrs. Bitters had thrown at the end. The movie had just been released, and some kids had already seen it at least 10 times; others had memorized the book. Wallace smirked proudly. He of course, had done both.

The husky blonde boy in front of him carelessly tossed a pile of test papers back to Wallace's (and Artemis's) desk with a yawn. With a simple glance at the questions, the flash fan-boy realized that the test would be an easy feat. After carelessly sliding one in Artemis's direction, he wrote his full name neatly on the top right hand corner. Artemis lazily took her test, rested her golden head on her palms and started writing lazily, with an obvious lack of interest.

Wallace simply smirked at her haughty attitude, and focused on his own test. He was in too good of a mood to let the arrogance of the gray-eyed blonde let him down. He had just found out last night that his parents had already booked tickets specifically for him to visit his Uncle Barry during the 1-week break that started at the end of today. Uncle Barry had promised to take his favorite red-head nephew to a "forensics chemistry" convention for young adults interested in the field. Although Wallace didn't find solace in forensics, the prospect of attending something chemistry related was enough to have him riled up in anticipation.

But of course, Wallace had other, less geeky reasons to go as well.

Linda Park.

Just the sound of her name caused Wallace's adrenal glands to release a flourish of hormones into his blood stream, dramatically increasing his heart rate and causing his finger tips to tingle. Despite being at least 1,500 miles from the girl of his dreams, Wallace couldn't remove her image from his mind. Her dark flowing tresses and demure nature— she was a babe.

Wallace had already created an agenda of how he would spend his precious vacation back at Keystone. The first day, he would relax at the convention, nonchalantly taking note of any interesting chemistry related tid-bit he would find useful. Then for the rest of his stay, he would spend in the park reciting oxidization numbers and love poems to Linda. He could almost see them—the perfect couple.

_Question 1: What does 'STP' stand for?_

Wally almost let out a snort at the simplicity of the assessment. Strangely enough, he saw his peers scratching their heads, tapping their pencils, and sweating profusely (which was quite unappealing, even for rich snobby children), obviously stumped on the first question. Even after he'd heard them bragging about how acclaimed noble laureates were hired to tutor them, Wallace was surprised that they still couldn't crack the first question.

Artemis was breezing through her test, furiously hitting keys on her graphing calculator, which was in poor shape from the times of being carelessly dropped and used in almost every math and science class. Ever since her outburst on the first day, Artemis had sat through every class mouth closed, and eyes blankly staring at the board, which was covered in Mrs. Bitter's elaborate handwriting. Every day after the last of the day's bells echoed to the hallways, Wallace saw the blonde girl simply drive away on her motorcycle without caring to socialize her "biker" friends. It was obvious, even to a human-behavior novice like Wallace West to conclude that something was wrong.

Like he cared.

He had better things to do. Who would want to get caught up in some eccentric female's personal melodramas when there were experiments to conduct and scientific advancements to be made? Obviously not someone in the right state of mind (like him).

"Done," Wallace breathed to himself, staring proudly at his expertly dictated significant figures for each of his answers. There was no doubt that his flawless test would distinguish him even further from his peers. Around him, everyone continued to work with their mechanical pencil erasers used all the way due to the excessive erasing. Sometimes Wallace wondered if the ordinary kids back at his old school were actually smarter than these prissy private school scholars.

Careful to avoid minimal squeaks from his chair, Wallace got up and walked to the professor's desk.

Mrs. Briggs was busy reading some cheesy romance novel titled _Skylar's Outlaw _, which featured hunky sweaty shirtless man (obviously on steroids) on the cover. The sight of Wallace startled her, and with a flushed face, the aged woman attempted to hide the embarrassing book under a pile of ungraded homework papers.

"May I help you, Mr. West?" she asked, completely flustered by Wallace's presence.

"Um… I finished the test," Wallace stated. He had to bite down hard on his bottom lip to keep a smirk from gracing his face. The period was barely half way through and he was already done!

"Alright, if you have double-checked your answers, then you may start a pile over there."

Her long bony fingers with stark red nails pointed to a small, intricately carved desk, which lay snugly in the corner.

Wallace nodded and lay his test carefully on the desk and walked nonchalantly back to his seats, hands in his pockets. Secretly, he felt prideful of the mixed looks directed at him from the students around him. Some glared annoyed at him, while others harbored faces filled with shock and amazement. To Wallace's pleasure, a few girls in his class clearly were impressed with him.

Yet Artemis still diligently worked, eyes trained upon her test paper.

Of course, Wallace could care less. Did he even have a reason to care? Other girls had obviously been enamored at his adeptness in the subject of chemistry, so he obviously didn't need to prove himself. Who was Artemis anyways? Some scholar-ship student who obviously was from a bad family of drunkards and abusers?

Wallace did admit, he had heard many rumors circulating around the school about the blonde beauty. Some concluded that she was an alien (which was improbable), while many of the girls thought he was a hobo (which was also improbable, and it made Wallace further consider the cognitive abilities of the students at the "prestigious" Gotham Academy).

Wallace took a seat, browsing his smart phone. He still had another 32 minutes to kill before next block, which just so happened to be a study hall. While browsing under the "daily news" column on the National Geographic website, Artemis noisily scooted back her chair, and carelessly dumped her test on the pile and walked back.

Wallace had to admit she looked a lot less intimidating without the biker getup and high ponytail she sported on the first day. Gotham Academy's simple navy sweater vest and pleated skirt made Artemis Crock look innocent and naïve, two characteristics she definitely wasn't.

But there was more.

Wallace couldn't help notice the tiny scars that crisscrossed across her legs, hinting that there was more to her than simply the eyes could discern.

Wallace glanced at his limited edition red Flash watch to get a sense of the time. School was officially out for break and all the students has already left to embark on vacations to exotic Oceania island 5-star resorts, or African Safari expeditions. Even Dick himself was going away for some "personal" business in Bialya with Bruce (it was quite peculiar since Bialya wasn't exactly a "vacationing" spot— especially now since there were many riots, but Wallace kept his mouth shut).

Today, Wallace's mother had taken the day off to pick him up so he could get home quickly and pack his bags. His flight was due to leave at 10, but with the customs, check-ins, and for the sake of flexibility, it was absolutely necessary to reach Gotham Airport by 7 at the latest. Airplanes were quite enjoyable, in Wally's opinion, especially with all the air-hostesses at his beck and call. But the plane ride was just aa hindrance they kept him from seeing Linda.

While the flight was one thing, packing was another—it was never easy. Due to his capricious tastes and sentimental attachment to almost every article of clothing, souvenir, and Flash merchandise he owned, Wallace ended up always exceeding his luggage weight limit every time. This time his mother was going to sit with him, and regulate his packing—that meant not bringing his limited addition Flash plushie and figurine set. What a shame!

"Listen, Babe, I told you that you should have failed that!"

Wallace stiffened at the voice. In the desolateness of the school campus, the voice was clearly audible. It was cold, masculine, and clearly distressed.

"Cam, don't call me that. And… I couldn't help it. My mom depends on me to get an education. She was the one who forced me to come here in the first place. I can't—"

The second voice seemed familiar, and husky, but Wally couldn't quite place a finger onto who it belonged to. He was more of a visual than auditory person.

"Babe, that's why you should flunk all your honor classes, so you can come to mine! Listen up, if you hook up with me, I can hook you up with everything you need… You know my dad has _connections_, and we could use your… _skills…_"

The voice was almost deranged, with a touch of psychotic that made Wallace remember the chilling showcase he had watched on "Investigation Discovery" last week—on serial killers.

"Cam, I know the real reason why you want me to flunk. It's obvious that some priss hired you so they could watch me fail. They obviously couldn't _stand_ a "low-life" to get better grades than them," the girl retorted bitterly.

The air was heavy with a pregnant silence.

Wallace took this opportunity to "quietly" sneak his way to the source of the noise (quite frankly, he tripped over his own feet twice, but held his own breath, pretending that no sound was made). Creeping behind the plaster pillar, Wallace caught a sight of the lanky pale boy he had seen in on the first day.

He was talking to Artemis.

The tall skinny adolescent, _Cam_, as she had referred to him, inched closer to Artemis. He stuck out one skinny hand to her shoulder, and inched uncomfortably close, as if pulling in for a kiss. Suddenly, there a loud crack that made even Wallace cringe. Artemis, at almost light speed had twisted Cam's hand around his back in an unnatural manner, making him fall to his knees in acute pain. She then leaned down, and muttered something into Cam's ears before letting him go with a jerk.

Cam's face became slightly red, and he rubbed his arm gingerly, as the blonde femme fatale walked away. "I'll get you Crock. You better flunk, and join me, or I'll be sure that your poor pathetic mother won't wake up one day!" he yelled back. His voice was faltered and cracked in fear. It was no doubt that Artemis's physical threat had fulfilled its purpose of intimidation.

However, at his words, Artemis stopped in her tracks, and her head dropped in defeat.

Wallace's eyes widened behind his glasses as he watched the scene unfold. For a second, he fretted if Artemis could actually sense his presence, as she took a glance at her surroundings. But a large sigh of defeat made it apparent that she was too caught up in the situation than realize that a ginger boy was eavesdropping.

_You can't give up now!_ Wallace wanted to tell her. Yes, he hated her, her arrogance, her manners, the way she didn't care about what others thought of her—but after hearing this, he was completely awestruck.

For a moment, Wallace felt incredibly dense, despite his vast amount of knowledge. With being granted a perfect life, a perfect family, all he could ever want and more, he had never expected to actually meet someone who didn't. Being situated in pristine perfect Gotham Academy didn't help him swallow this revelation better, since everyone here got what they wanted. Sure there were hobos in Gotham and people with family problems you saw in movies, but he had never considered someone in such close proximity to him to be in the same circumstance. And for this reason, Wallace West felt guilt, something he hadn't felt since the time he traded his mom's rhubarb for some Justice League Trading Cards (he then realized that they were fraud too!).

"I'll join," she said hoarsely, her voice barely a whisper.

Cameron grinned devilishly and walked towards her defeated figure. Gingerly, he lay his hand on her shoulder, half-expecting it to be contorted in an uncomfortable way again. But Artemis accepted his touch.

"That's great, babe. I'll give you the information soon. Meet me at the alley behind Wayne Enterprises."

"You better not try any tricks, Cam. I can twist your hand in ways you can't even imagine. Call me babe again, and I'll give you a sneak-peek of my most famous treatment".

"Whatever, Arty. Just show up".

"As long as…you don't do anything to my mom".

Before Wallace could hear any more of the conversation, he gasped as he felt his phone vibrate silently in his uniform trouser pocket (he loved the classy mandatory uniforms that Gotham Academy offered—he finally could wear trousers without looking like he was going to a wedding or someone's funeral!)

_Wally, where are you? Just 10 minutes ago, you were calling like crazy for me to get here! I've been waiting for 7 minutes now!_

_-Mom_

Groaning at his mother's untimely arrival, Wallace tucked his phone in his pocket and prayed that Artemis and Cam hadn't heard him (Wallace wasn't a man of religion, but he realized that he had to be lucky or Artemis would break his arms). With the same "stealth" which he had utilized to reach his hiding place, Wallace crept back to the main entrance where his mom's new luxury sedan awaited. The window rolled down to reveal a very impatient looking Mary West.

"We haven't got all day, Wally," she said, her normally sweet tone with an impatient edge. As kind as she could be, Mary West, like Wallace wasn't good at waiting.

Wallace opened the door, and buckled up, laying his satchel in the crevice between his feet. He sat awkwardly thinking about the events that took place 3 minutes ago.

"You alright, Wally?" Mary asked with obvious concern in her voice. "You should be excited to see Barry again! Don't forget your little sweet heart Linda!" she chuckled. As much as Wallace denied his obvious affection for Linda, Mary wasn't blind. She saw right through her only son's façade.

"Mooommm!" Wallace groaned, but couldn't help crack a smile. But then, the knot in his stomach formed again, causing him to clutch it.

He desperately wanted to share his dark revelations with someone. The fact that someone he "knew" was being blackmailed into a deal. Should he inform the authorities, or feel guilt (an emotion which he loathed) if something dreadful were to happen the next day?

Sounded like some sick psychological drama.

Wallace just needed someone he could talk to without being judged. It was awkward talking with your mom about these things, especially when you were practically a man (16 was a pretty manly age, in Wallace's opinion).

"Wally, do you want to talk?" Mary asked again. Seeing Wallace clutch his stomach with her peripheral vision was just enough to activate her motherly instincts. She turned momentarily from the wheel, and patted Wallace's shoulder gently.

"Look here sweetie, you know you can talk to me. Is something wrong at school?" she asked with her grass-green eyes looking intently at her son's crest-fallen figure next to her.

Wallace looked up at her, and smiled. Time seemed to standstill

There was a thump on the car, a blur, and screeching breaks.

Everything had happened so quickly, and Wallace felt dazed.

Before he could comprehend what was unfolding, cars around him had stopped, and a chorus of frantic voices surrounded him.

"Wallace! Get out of the car, and help me see what happened!" Mary screamed frantically, attempting to shake her son out of dazed trance.

Giving up, she opened the door and ran to the victim of the crash.

Soon, the other cars around them had stopped, and Wallace could hear the faint wailing sounds of the ambulance, firefighters and police. People had come out of their cars to check out the commotion.

"Check her wallet!" a male voice said, distressed.

"She's out cold, but it doesn't look too serious, the paramedics are coming," a woman said.

"Oh my god."

Wallace still couldn't move. Everything was happening too fast. His mind couldn't process these inopportune turn of events. People couldn't die in simple crashes. His mom wasn't even that fast, only 20 MPH, right? So he just lay in the car, his mind attempting to swerve him away from the graveness of the situation. His mind conjured the worse-case scenario of a mangled corpse, bleeding on the asphalt.

_I wonder what Linda's doing… She probably must be waiting for me, I'm sure of it! _ Wallace thought frantically, calming his nerves.

All he wanted to think about was going to Central City. Away from here. Away from the possible _death_ that had occurred. _A death which was highly unlikely._

It was all his fault.

It was his fault because _he _ was the one who was hiding something from his mom; _he _ was the one who distracted her;_ he_ was the reason why someone was going to be hurt; _he _ was the reason why the victim's family would be devastated.

And because of that fear—that _guilt_, Wallace could not move. He just couldn't face it.

"ID say's her name's Artemis Crock," the first male voice announced.

And that was it.

At the sound of her name, Wallace came back into consciousness Artemis. His mom had hit Artemis.

* * *

**SUSPENSE!**

**I think I got into this habit of cliffies due to Greg..**

**I'm such a hardcore Dick and Babs shipper right now! They are so cute!**

**Meh. I wanted to portray Wally as a dork who pretended he was all that, when he was actually afraid of plenty of things on the inside. That's why he was afraid to get out of the car. LOL he's such a scaredy-cat! :D That aspect of his character will definitely play out as he gets his powers in the later chapter**s.


	5. Interrogation

**Again, thank you for your kind reviews! Hopefully this story will be going somewhere as soon as Wally gets his powers, which will probably happen in chapter 6 or 7… For those of you who requested for me to draw Biker Artemis, I will get there, I promise! (I have too many requests and ideas to fulfill first!) Enjoy, and don't be shy to review: You too, anons! :D **

Chapter 5:

* * *

The acrid aroma of disinfectants and other medicine made Wallace shudder. As much as he hated to admit it, he had always been weary of hospitals. Maybe it was the bluish hue of the lights, or maybe it was the crying, heartbroken people he saw walking around. He had been to the hospital two major times, one being for when his distant cousin had a baby, and the other being when he broke his nose in a freak accident involving a telephone pole (he rather not delve into the latter).

The large hospital back at Central City was alright, with its waxed linoleum floors, and decorative fauna corresponding with holidays or seasons. Every person—from the nurses, secretaries, to even family and friends of the patients—were always eager to offer a shoulder to cry on, making the hospital seem like a comically large family in its entirety. Wallace had always appreciated that idea, considering his own family was large as well. That tender loving aspect of Keystone and Central Cities made Wallace almost bitter with nostalgia.

He would have been on the plane _right now_.

Compared to his _real_ home, Gotham was the stark opposite. The Gotham General Hospital lights radiated a dull hue, contributing to the depressing mood further. No decorations were in sight, and the white-washed walls were barren (Wallace was certain that staring at them for prolonged periods of time would induce insanity). The people around him seemed to fit into the same category as the hospital: austere and unflinching. Difficult "wage-slave" lifestyles in addition to mundane criminal activity had created middle-lower class Gotham residents —from the young children, to the older senior citizens—into "shells" of people. They seemed unfazed as doctors discoursed about the patients' condition with them, good or bad.

After witnessing only the behavioral routines of the rich and pampered, Wallace was admittedly shocked at the stoic nature of the middle-lower class of the Gotham population.

Their natures bared a haunting resemblance to that of Artemis. Her face, like theirs seemed devoid of extreme emotions. Similarly, her defensive tone and arrogance were deployed as a façade to mask her inner self.

Why did he care? He barely talked to her, save the labs. Even as partners, he had only directed her to what equipment they should use. His tone was weary of her dangerous nature, and hers a simple uncaring grunt. While waiting for the Bunsen burner to catch fire, small talk was rare. The other girls, with their lip-glossed smiles and Gucci handbags had always approached Wallace kindly, asking for help in cleaning out buret tubes, a simple task which the squeamish girls had refused to do for the sake of their $150 manicures.

Artemis had confronted him after class one day, after he had scrubbed clean 8 buret tubes while the girls gossiped amongst their "herds". She had been irritated at his compliance with the "bitches'" (she was quite the potty-mouth) demands.

"_God, Dork, I really don't get you," she said, her husky voice cracking with biting sarcasm. _

_Wallace simply ignored her and proceeded to dry his hands. _

"_You could do better than those spoiled bitches. They just use you to get what they want."_

_Wallace walked to their desk and cleared the table. He really wasn't in the mood to talk to her. Why did she care, anyways?_

"_You know what, whatever," she said, before walking away to a corner to chat with Kauldur, a soft-spoken dark-skinned senior with striking blue eyes and blonde hair. Kauldur was a genial guy, with an exotic accent and musical voice. Even Wallace could hold a friendly conversation with him. _

Wallace shook away the memory. That was probably the only time Artemis had said something to him, besides a grunt or glare, and he was the one who ignored her.

Artemis.

Wallace flinched at the memory. She was probably in the ER suffering under doctors' heartless hands, all because of him.

_Don't think about it, Wally, she had it coming anyway; I mean, the accident was her fault. She was the one who didn't stop at the red light. Plus, she was the one who distracted you, which then in turn caused you to distract your mom from the wheel. Think about Linda. Artemis is the reason why could can't see her!_

Wallace silently agreed to his conscience. This scenario was Artemis' fault from all perspectives, so there was no reason to feel any guilt. So why was there a knot in his stomach?

"Wally, hon, you should probably eat something," Mary shook her son's shoulder lightly. It was 8 o' clock, two hours past supper, and the last thing Wallace had ingested was a chocolate King-Sized Snickers bar during Study-Hall (he had to maintain his excellent figure, after all!).

Mary had noticed that Wallace "above-average" appetite had been dead ever since the accident.

"Wally, this isn't your fault. Accidents like this happen! I'm sure Artemis will be fine, so the best thing you could do for her, as well as yourself is to eat something!" she chided to him, as if speaking to a delicate petulant child.

"No, mom. Can you, just—never mind. I'm not hungry," Wallace replied coldly, a tone which even he, was surprised of.

"Alrighty then. But you are free to use your credit card to get something from the snack bar," Mary replied in an understanding tone as she fondly stroked her son's messy but soft ginger hair.

Overwhelmed by the anxiety, which was fueled especially by the bleak hospital atmosphere, Wallace sighed deeply and rested his elbows on his knees, and head in his palms.

_Hold it together, Dr. Wallace Rudolph West! _(Wallace liked to think that he had an "imaginary" PHD). _Recite the periodic table or something'. _

_Chemistry. _

_Miss Briggs. _

_Sitting next to Artemis. _

_Artemis, also referred to as Diana by the Romans. The goddess of the hunt, twin sister to Apollo. _

_Artemis._

_Now suffering in the ER because of an idiot named Wallace Rudolph West. _

"Wally, I postponed the flight to tomorrow night, and let Barry and Iris know too," Mary said, interrupting her sons' thoughts. It irked her to see her son in this state: slumped, eyes closed, and fingers clutching red hair in frustration.

However at the mention of his trip, Wally perked up, green eyes wide.

"Sounds great, Mom," he said, voice still cracking from lack of use. He desperately wanted to escape all this drama and darkness of Gotham.

"Where is she? Where's my daughter?" a voice heavy with an East-Asian accent broke the silence of the waiting room. A frail Asian woman with short, graying hair rolled anxiously into the waiting room in a wheelchair. The woman's gray eyes and skin tone resembled that of Artemis, leading Wallace to suspect that she was her mother.

"Ma'am, she will be okay, the doctors are working on her right now. Will you kindly wait in the waiting room please?" a lethargic nurse stated stiffly as she ushered the frantic woman towards Wallace and Mary.

"Now, I need to see her now," the woman spat, her voice rising in intensity.

"No, ma'am, the doctors are still working of her," the nurse replied in a cold professional voice.

"Doris, it's okay. I have good news," interjected a warm female voice. The woman was middle aged, with short blonde hair, and doctor's scrubs.

"Dr. Thompkins!" the nurse replied, relieved that it would now be the doctor's responsibility to take care of the stubborn woman in the wheelchair.

"It's okay, Doris, I can take care of this, you can go back to the desk," Dr. Thompkins replied warmly, a tone which Wallace had barely heard since he had arrived at the hospital.

The blonde woman looked at Wallace, Mary, and Artemis' mom with an understanding gaze.

"Just a minor head injury, she's stitched up and will be regaining consciousness right about now, so there is no reason for you folks to worry. If you want, you can visit now," she smiled softly, and started to pull Artemis' mom's wheelchair down the hospital corridor.

"Wallace, I know you are squeamish, if you want, I can call dad, and you can go home and pack. We wouldn't want you to miss your flight tomorrow, now would we?" Marry whispered as she softly rubbed her son's back. Wallace awkwardly hugged her back, which was quite uncomfortable since he was a head taller than her. Letting go, the mother and son continued to follow Dr. Thompkins through the maze of hospital corridors and intersections.

"Nah mom, it's okay. This accident was my fault anyways. Besides, I've already packed a couple clothes and my toothbrush," Wallace said finally as the passed through the Oncology Wing.

Mary paused at his response. "Wallace. This isn't your fault. It was no one's. I want you to stop blaming this whole ordeal on yourself, alright. Didn't you hear the doctor? Artemis is _fine_. It's not your fault, and don't ever say that it is," she replied in a hush but serious tone, green eyes starting to water.

Wallace bit his lip. He didn't want to make his mother cry. "Alright, mom," he replied, cracking one of his "irresistible" pearly white grins.

With her money, Mary had made sure Artemis had gotten one of the best rooms in the hospital. It was on the upper level, with a great view (overstated) of Gotham's downtown; complete with polluting factories, abandoned derelict crime-hub, and of course, the towering concrete jungles. At night, Gotham's blood-red skies added on to the already somber mood of the city.

The room itself was moderately sized, walls whitewashed, with a single Monet "Water Lilly" impressionism painting hanging solemnly on the wall. A plethora of hospital equipment laid folded up neatly in the corner, as well as a wheel chair. The drapes were thin, and partially open to give the patient a view of the city while they recovered. A small wooden coffee table laid with teenage-girl magazines covered with pictures of "Robin" and "Speedy" lay carelessly tossed. Next to the bed were two plush-lined wooden chairs. On the electronically-adjustable bed under white sheets lay Artemis.

Her eyes were open slightly, her normally neat hair in a disarray, sprawled across the white pillow like a blonde waterfall. Her head was bound tightly with gauze, yet some blood bled through, staining it with crimson splotches. Her skin was wan, lacking its usual olive hue, and her eyes were lackluster. Various IV needles penetrated her arms, with her left one wrapped tightly in gauze. Loose hospital garments covered her skin, making her appear like a small, lost child. Yet she was chillingly attractive, resembling the delicate young martyr in Paul Delaroche's painting.

On a visual analysis, Wallace assessed that his theory was right—Artemis _appeared_ to have received minimum physic al damage, with a few stitches, a laceration, and bruises here and there. However, internal damage, especially psychological trauma was quite possible. As much as he hated to admit weakness, Wallace was 90% sure that he, too faced some mental stress due to the events of the unforeseen "accident".

At the sight of the people entering the room, Artemis's eyes grew wide, and her hands clutched the blanket tighter, causing more blood to bleed through her arm bandages.

"W-what h-happened? Where am I? Mom?" she spluttered incredulously as she frantically glanced at her surroundings.

Dr. Thompkins walked closer as if approaching a hurt wild animal.

"Shhh, Artemis. You were in an accident. But you're alright now. You just have a few cuts, and we stitched you up," she hushed.

Artemis' eyes grew wide as she recollected the days' events.

"An accident?"

Now it was Mary's turn to intervene.

"Oh I'm so sorry! You were speeding, and I wasn't watching where I was going, and—"Mary started frantically, creating large dramatic gestures with her hands (Wallace too had inherited that trait of rushing his words during times of discomfort).

"No, it's my fault. I was speeding, and I ran the red light," Artemis interrupted, her voice grave. "I'm sorry."

Wallace awkwardly watched from the doorway. At this point, he simply wanted to disappear. He didn't want to face Artemis at all. Luckily, she hadn't spotted him.

"Con có đau hôm?" Mrs. Crock inquired as she rolled her wheelchair towards her daughter's bed, and entwined her own hands in Artemis'.

"Don't worry mom, I'm fine!" Artemis smiled, her voice straining to sound cheerful.

Wallace grimaced. The happy tone sounded almost foreign coming from Artemis. It was obvious she wasn't fine. Who would be, after being hit by a car? (It was a rhetorical question).

"Well, if everything's alright, Wallace and I will be heading out now. Call me if you need anything Artemis, and..?" Mary paused, looking at the woman in the wheelchair politely.

"Paula. Paula Crock," the Asian woman replied as she rolled her wheelchair closer. A small but genuine smile graced her tired face.

"Nice meeting you Paula, I'm Mary West, and this is my son, Wallace West," Mary replied, pulling Wallace into the room. She gave him the annoyed "be polite" look.

"Nice meeting you Wallace and Mary!" Paula replied kindly.

Artemis perked up at the sound of his name. Wallace could almost feel her steely stare boring into his forehead as shook hands with Paula Crock. Glancing up, he caught her eye and held her gaze. He was certain that he saw her crack a smile.

He was definitely sleep-deprived and hungry; Artemis Crock was not one to smile.

"Wait, what time is it?" Artemis asked suddenly.

Wallace glanced at his Flash watch. "Uhh, 10:30 pm", he replied, a bit caught off guard after their 3 second eye contact. .

"Shit." Artemis' eyes went wide, as if she had recalled an important engagement.

"Is something wrong?" Dr. Thompkins asked, concerned about her patient's well-being.

"Oh, it's nothing," Artemis replied sweetly with a swat of her hand.

Wallace could tell she was feigning. He knew something was up.

* * *

Waking up was a difficult task the next morning. The visit to the hospital had left Wallace more mentally fatigued than physically. Artemis Crock. Tragically, this woman was sure to lure Wallace into insomnia.

After they had gotten home, Mary had prompted Wallace to eat. She had even suggested that he choose takeout from any restaurant of his choice. However, after her son had politely refused to her requests, the stubborn woman was even willing to call the bakery to order Wallace's favorite: chocolate-chip chewy brownies. Wallace doubted that the bakery was even open at such an hour, but he had again refused his mother calmly, declaring that he was still nauseated by the disinfectant stench that came with the hospital visit. With a dubious stare, temperature reading, and close inspection of her son, Mary had let it go under one condition: he go to bed immediately.

Sleep was impossible—clearly unachievable at this point. While his eyes were fatigued, his brain was not, for it continued to replay the events of the day. For the majority of the night, Wallace half-slept—bringing visions of Keystone in the summer time, his old pals, school home, and Linda into his mind. That strategy was successful in calming his heartbeat, but as he dozed off into his REM sleep, he awoke, breathing heavy and drenched in sweat.

He had dreamt that he was the one driving, instead of his mother. He had been driving through a barren desert. Out of nowhere Artemis appears in the middle of the road, and he hits her. The car continues, and soon he hits Linda, and all his family members like a psychotic juggernaut. Yet, he continues driving.

_Great_, he thought. _Now I have a fear of cars and driving in general_.

For the remainder of the Night, Wallace spent on vacation homework. At approximately 3, he had finished. After failing to occupy himself with another activity, Wallace gave in an slept. At last, peaceful slumber came to him.

* * *

"We are here to see Artemis Crock," Mary West told the secretary at the hospital.

Wallace and his mother were at the Gotham General Hospital again, with a comically sized "get well soon" gift basket stuffed with various deli meats and cheeses. It was Wallace who was burdened with the duty of carrying It around (it was simple, since he was in good shape). However, it was clearly torture, since it was like telling a five year old to hold a bucket of candy and not to eat it (clearly, Wallace was not 5, but he was just as demanding). Mary had told Wallace to stay home, since it wasn't exactly mandatory for him to come, but the curiosity couldn't keep him away. Along with the nightmares, Artemis' bedridden state had replayed over and over—not to mention the smirk she had shot him. To make sure his mind didn't go delusional and change his opinion of her, he had decided to come and see the blonde bombshell to be reminded of how much of an annoying person she truly was.

He was going to end up with Linda anyways.

Mary and Wallace navigated though the hospital corridors with ease, thanks to Wallace's photographic memory. He had remembered every turn and steps they had climbed the previous day to reach the room.

"Well, this is it," Wallace stated as they came to a halt in front of the door.

"Alright, since you decided to tag along again, I want to make sure you are on your best behavior. This girl has been through an _accident_ and suffers at least _some_ trauma. Plus, she's your _classmate_. I want you to talk to her and be a good little boy," Mary whispered, emphasizing "good little boy". She pinched Wallace's cheek and smiled brightly.

Wallace groaned, rubbing his now reddening cheek, as he followed his mother inside.

* * *

Artemis was still there in here bed, but for some reason, she appeared to be disheveled. Her bandages were lose and her blonde hair matted instead of wavy.

"H-hello," she stammered as she saw the two red haired mother and son enter her room. Her hands consciously went for her hair, smoothing it out the best she could with her fingers.

"Hello Artemis! I see you are doing better!" Mary exclaimed, in her sweetest voice.

"Yeah, I definitely feel better, thanks for everything, Mrs. West," Artemis replied. Wallace could tell her words were genuine.

Wallace lingered awkwardly at the door like last night, attempting to disappear behind the gift basket. He wanted his mother to leave so he could talk to Artemis in private.

And like a boon, the shrill default ringtone of Mary's iPhone interrupted the maladroit reunion. Startled, the woman rummaged through her large designer handbag before finding her phone. "Oh crap, it's the traveling agency about your tickets, Wally," she groaned. "I'll be outside, alright?" she smiled as she politely left the room leaving only Wallace and Artemis together.

"Gotcha a gift basket," Wallace grinned as he dumped the load on the nearest table.

"Listen, Dork. When we get back to school, don't think that anything's changed," Artemis retorted bitterly, glaring at the ginger haired boy.

"Whatever." Wallace grinned. He was glad. He really didn't like Artemis, and things were sure to get odd if she suddenly acted friendly. He hated to admit it, but he felt relieved that her snarky attitude had returned. Yesterday's smile had him convinced that Artemis had suffered brain-damage, or worse: cooties.

He took a seat on one of the two chairs and nonchalantly picked up a magazine. It was one of the newer "teen girl" magazine issues, featuring a male model in a Robin costume on the cover. He couldn't help snort at the seductive pose, which seemed even more ridiculous in a red costume replica of the original.

"So you're into Superheroes, I see," Artemis badgered, amusement in her voice.

Wallace looked up, startled that she was attempting to converse. But that's what he wanted, right? He decided to play cool.

"Psh. I rather read this waste of paper than talk to you."

Artemis rolled her eyes. "Yeah, says the boy who probably wears Flash briefs."

So she had noticed his little obsession with the Flash.

Wallace flushed and hid his face deeper behind the magazine. It was true, but Artemis just had a lucky guess. Plus, he wasn't about to give her the satisfaction just yet! Finally, after he had witnessed male models dressed up as Speedy and Aqualad, Wallace had enough. He looked around the room to distract himself.

"What's wrong Dork? Never seen a hospital bedroom? With your nerdiness, I would've thought you got beat up every day."

Wallace chuckled.

"Well, no, since I have the intellect to outsmart them."

"Yeah right, you probably bore them to sleep with your knowledge about chemistry," Artemis teased, rolling her stormy eyes.

"Hm.. Maybe I could try that on you so they could make you fall asleep quicker!"

Artemis chortled at that, and dramatically fell back in her bed and lolled her tongue out. "Please, not the aldehydes!" she groaned painfully.

"Ha, I guess I was so smart that simply conversing with me stopped you in your tracks!"

Artemis' eyes flew open and she gave Wallace the "not on your life look". Despite her intended hostility, her eyes shone with mischief, heating Wallace's face.

"Puh-lease, Dork. You just bored me to death."

"What-ever you say," Wallace replied before feigning his interest into the magazines.

With the corner of his eyes, he noticed Artemis attempting to tighten her arm bandages. She tried to be discrete, pretending to just inspect them. Wallace squinted. Not only were they loose, but undone and soaked in blood, indicating that Artemis had over exerted herself. In addition, he noticed fresh mud on the white floors and window ajar.

Then it clicked.

_Hello Wally! Artemis had obviously sneaked out of the hospital…at night. But why? _ Wallace mused. Then it hit him like two particles at the beginning of a fission reaction: she had been meaning to sneak out all along. He recollected her look of urgency from yesterday. She needed to be somewhere… She needed to see someone…

_Now for where she went… Well based on yesterday's visit, she has a disabled mother, and no apparent father. Either her mom and dad split, or he's dead. So that means she has a lot of responsibility. Her school friends include a bunch of rich thugs and—Cam! That blackmail! The offer, of course! Hello Wally!_

In the recent turn of events, Wallace had forgotten the fiasco at school regarding Cameron and Artemis.

Wallace mentally lauded his detective skills. He could even see himself: a fancy beige trench coat with a plaid deerstalker hat. Detective Wallace West!

For the interrogation, Wallace decided to play dumb; since he couldn't raise suspicion at his latest deduction (he also found delight in other peoples' nervousness). "So Artemis, your window is open. I'm pretty sure the Gotham air's pollution is quite deleterious for your delicate condition". He stopped himself from giving her a smug grin.

Artemis increased her grip on the sheets, and rolled her eyes. "I ain't some _pansy_. I was craving some fresh air."

Wallace grinned as he realized her slip-up. "It was raining last night, Miss Crock. I highly doubt the nurses would have liked for you to keep the window open," he retorted slyly.

Artemis tensed, and bit her lip, a gesture which Wallace knew indicated hesitation and doubt (he had read a book on human behavior).

"Well, I just opened them now—before you guys got here."

_Another mistake. Time to go in for the kill. _Wallace thought.

"That doesn't explain the water on the floor near the window nor your muddy boots. By the look of it, the mud is fresh, probably from 8 hours ago. In addition, you hair is matted since yesterday. You escaped, didn't you?"

"Wh-what the hell are you talking about, West?" Artemis choked. Clearly she wasn't the best liar.

"Yeah, sure. Do you _want_ me to get the surveillance footage?" Wallace grinned deviously. Clearly, he was having way too much fun with this.

"Yeah whatever. You caught me. It still isn't your business though. And I know you have reasons of your own to show up". Wallace swallowed nervously. It was Artemis' turn to be the interrogator.

"I only came here because my mom did."

"Keep telling yourself that. But I have eyes. You are nervous. After the accident, you wouldn't even look at me. Using my awesome detective skills, I conclude that you feel guilt." Her smile was clearly quite evil.

"What?" Wallace replied, dazed at her accuracy.

"There, we're even."

"Whatever. I feel no guilt. I was forced to be here".

"Whatever," she replied, her voice filled with bitter sarcasm.

The awkward silence was present again.

Wallace continued to look at her, pressuring her to confess.

Artemis sighed and gave up on the bandages.

"West, I don't even know why you are here, and now you want to get into my personal business? Where I was is none of your concern". Artemis' voice was sharp and offended, indicating that she did not wish to further delve into the issue.

Wallace sighed, and focused on the magazines again. The blonde girl just lay in bed, glaring outside the window, which caused Wallace to question her sanity. Outside, he could hear his mother attempt a quiet dispute with the traveling agency about the ticket. The ginger boy prayed silently that he would be able to escape this polluted hell as soon as possible.

"You went to Cam, didn't you?" Wallace asked, before realizing his mistake. He and his big mouth. He should have forced Artemis to admit it for herself!

Artemis was silent, and he turned to Wallace, glare as deadly as the Gorgon Medusa's herself.

"What?" she spluttered, incredulously. She sat up from her comfortable slumber to getter a better view of Wallace.

"You know… Cam…"

Artemis shot him a murderous look.

"Fine I admit it," Wallace sighed, defeated. He clearly could not lie his way through when Artemis was boring holes through his forehead with her deadly eyes. "," he spat out quickly, as if the words were the repugnant broccoli soup his mother made him drink on sick-days.

Another stretch of silence.

"You _what?" _Artemis hissed, her sickly pale face slowly turning florid beneath her olive skin.

"Look, a guy has ears, and sometimes, he _hears things around him_," Wallace replied sarcastically, finding secret satisfaction in Artemis' reddening visage.

"West, if your mother wasn't so nice, I would throw my IV stand at you right now," she muttered contemptuously through gritted teeth.

Wallace let out a pathetic laugh. He knew Artemis wasn't bluffing after he had witnessed her take down Cam singlehandedly.

"Listen," Wallace started slowly but sincerely. "I don't know much about black-mailing, and all the obscenities that happen on the streets. But I think you could do better than that; Cam, I mean. He clearly was afraid of you, you could tel—"

"Shut up. You don't know me or him. He threatened my _mom_," Artemis whispered hoarsely. It was an indicator that this, really wasn't going to go anywhere.

The spell of silence that lingered heavy in the air was broken with the squeaky opening of the door.

Mary rushed in, with a wide grin plastered across her face.

"Wallace, I have news! The flight didn't get cancelled, but it's earlier, meaning that we have to leave now. Plus, now you can only stay for three days, instead of a week," Mary started chipper since the trip was shorter (she cared way too much about her son), but her excitement died down as she noticed her son sifting tensely through the magazines and Artemis gazing vacantly out the window.

"Well, I'm sorry I killed all the excitement going on here!" she added finally.

Artemis suddenly turned to face Mary.

"Mrs. West, thank you for everything. I'm getting discharged tomorrow, and my mom and I really appreciate the help," Artemis interjected.

Mary's face softened.

"Awww! Sweetie, it's no problem! I'm really glad you're well. I'm really sorry about the accident!" Mary stifled a tear. She had a soft spot in her heart for injured people (Wallace knew first-hand).

Wallace resisted the temptation to roll his eyes when his mother's "motherly instincts" kicked in as she walked over to Artemis, and gave her an awkward side hug (the IV kept getting in the way).

"Mom, I still have some last minute things to pack," Wallace replied impatiently. It wasn't a _complete_ blatant lie, he did have to pack his toothbrush (Flash themed, obviously) as well as his acne medication (he didn't have any, but still couldn't risk a blemish).

"Oh alright, Wallace," Mary sighed affectionately. Her son, no matter how older or handsomer he got, would be that petulant, attention-seeking child she gave birth to.

Bidding the blonde girl a final adieu, the mother and son exited the hospital, on their way back home.

"You know, I don't mind seeing her as your girlfriend, Wally! What a nice girl!" Mary teased brightly.

"You have no idea," Wallace groaned.

Wallace was glad to leave, but a knot in his stomach formed after he realized that he had left Artemis behind as well.

When he got in the car, Wallace was shocked that he had told Artemis the same thing that she had told him about the girls and the buret tubes: _"You could do better"_.

* * *

"Wallace, please be safe. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you," Mary said, on the verge of tears before smothering her son into a tight vice-gripped hug.

"Moooom, I'm finnnnee!" Wallace groaned. He ignored the strange looks he was getting from foreigners at the airport at the sight of his mother choking him with a tight embrace. He guessed people in other countries weren't fond of seeing an almost-man (such as himself) being coddled by his mother.

"Mary, honey, let the poor boy go," Rudolph guffawed warmly; since he knew how tight Mary's grip could be (not in the suggestive implications!).

Inhaling deeply, and carefully wiping away a tear to preserve makeup, Mary let her only son go before adding, "Be sure to call me _every _day, or else I'm burning all your Flash dolls".

"Action _figures_," Wallace added, with a twinge of annoyance. One thing his dorky mind could not cope with: people mistaking action figures and figurines for _dolls; _even worse: _Barbies_.

Waving a last goodbye at his parents, Wallace entered the heart of the airport, in search of his terminal.

* * *

On the plane, Wallace could feel burgeoning exhilaration as the geometric cityscapes transformed into earthy-hued patched fields. Even in the recirculated chill air of the airplane, he could almost smell the fresh zephyrs of Missouri. These early autumn days in the Midwest were perfect—not to hot or cold, with the occasion breeze blowing from time to time.

With each passing minute, Wallace inched closer to his beloved aunt and uncle, the Flash and Linda; but for some odd sensation left part of him feeling devoid. He doubted that he was hungry, since he had ordered so much food that even the stewardesses gave him strange looks as they walked by. He was not missing his parents, since he had left them for long stretches of time in the previous years.

It was Artemis.

Now, to be thinking so diligently of someone, let alone a girl you barely know is an anomaly, especially in the mind of Wallace West—a boy with room in his hear for one female: Linda. But these feelings were not romantic. They were almost undecipherable for "Junior Detective Wallace West". Imagine a child who has lived a life with a silver spoon in his mouth; raised with care and surrounded by the epitomes of people. He had lived in the ideal suburbs; with the American-Dream white-picket-fenced two story house, had harbored a crush on the "girl-next-door", and was part of a large but loving family. When placed in a city like Gotham, the orderly environment had been changed—instead of a sweet tender girl, he had gotten a vicious blonde bombshell with a snarky attitude and shady past. That is what compelled Wallace, the thrill of chaos, and the end to the mundaneness—things discovered particularly in Artemis Crock. He had spent so much time trying to escape Gotham that he hasn't realized its true "beauty".

But Linda was _obviously_ the girl for him. He was merely curious about Artemis that was all. He wondered about Cam, and her sneaking out of the hospital. Such actions were most likely detrimental to her health. Such actions he would never personally think to commit. Yet the blonde, as well as many others in Gotham were not afraid to take risks. He recollected the day when a homeless man traded in the few dollars' worth of change he had accumulated for a pack of cigarettes, rather than the quintessential food and clothes (and a shower) he so desperately needed. It was almost as if the people of Gotham did not care about their personal well-being, or santé, but rather other, unnecessary things. It all puzzled the poor red-haired boy.

"Buckle up, passengers, we will are landing in Central City right now. Skies are clear, with the temperature being 65 degrees Fahrenheit. A wonderful day!" the pilot's static-filled informed passengers.

Obediently, Wallace clicked his belt before the descending plane caused the strange flutters in his stomach. He should have declined the Poulet roti. What he really needed was a barf bag.

Make that three.

* * *

**(I proof-read like 5 times, but there still might be some mistakes.)**

**Mwahahaha. Poor airsick Wally...**

**Alright, this chappy was a bit boring, but you guys got a little bit of Spitfire! :D**

**The next will have A LOT OF ACTION. I PROMISE.**

**Alright, so I have a question:**

**Would you guys be disinterested in the story if I killed Linda off to toughen up Wally's character?**


	6. Experiments

**Haha.. Sorry for the late update, but I was sidetracked with drawing requests and my summer homework… I hope you guys will enjoy this one! As promised, it is pivotal! ;) I have put my own twist on Linda's fate, so thanks so much for your great feedback and ideas! I love you all for putting up with me and this story! **

**Note: I have no clue what "Forensic Conventions" are like at all, so that part's just me and my wild imagination :D**

* * *

"Alright Kiddo, the nerd convention is at 4, so if you want to freshen up, or conjure up some interesting questions, make it quick. Your little "delay" was quite inopportune," Uncle Barry rambled habitually as he drove his SUV out of Central City traffic on a more reclusive route.

Iris looked up from her smartphone and sent her husband a look of askance. "Oh Barry, give the poor guy a break! He's still recovering from air-sickness!" she scolded, teasingly swatting her husband's blond head with her palm.

Wallace looked up from gazing at the Central City skyline at the mention of his name and smiled at the couples' playful banter over his health. When Iris and Barry had seen him on the airport, they had almost taken him to the Central City Hospital's Emergency room. Only after examining his face in the car's mirror did Wallace know why; his hair was in red disarray, and his cheeks were pale and radiating a greenish hue. Purplish swollen circles outlined his under eyes, while his eyes themselves were blood-shot. In colloquial terms: he looked like _shit_.

Maybe he should have taken that pink motion-sickness pill his mother had graciously slipped in his fanny pack (of course he had a fanny pack! They were a convenient method of stashing a couple of snacks, as well as the legal necessities that came with air travel!).

"Don't worry Uncle Barry. I had plenty of time to think about questions on the plane; that is, when I wasn't busy eating or barfing," Wallace joked.

Barry threw his red-haired nephew a quizzical gaze through the car's rear-view mirror and brought his index and thumb to his face for a more thoughtful pose.

Wallace groaned. Uncle Barry had entered the "Doctor Mode".

"What do you think, Dr. Iris? Does our patient look fit enough?"

If Barry Allen hadn't been one of the best forensic detectives in the Midwest, he would have had a great stage career playing the suave doctor on the afternoon soap operas Wallace's mother liked to follow.

Despite Barry's dry sense of humor and hopeless puns, Wallace had always admired him. Even when Barry and Iris first hooked up, the blonde man was sure to make acquaintances with Wallace—not because it was customary, but because both of them shared many things in common.

They were both chemistry nerds, Flash-fanatics, and avid followers of _Supernatural_ although Wallace denied the latter, bluntly stating that the show was as fake as Jensen Ackles' eyes (how could anyone possibly have eyes that prominent and green with eyelashes that long? Well Wallace did, but Jensen's lashes were definitely suspicious).

It was Barry who had supplied Wallace with the mint-condition Flash merchandise which was almost impossible to acquire. It was Barry who had comforted Wallace when Pluto had been discredited as a planet. Sometimes Wallace wondered if the bond between himself and Barry outshone the one Wallace had with his father.

Then again, his father had never understood the difference between a cis and trans isomer.

Iris looked back at her nephew with a concerned expression. "He'll live," she smiled fondly.

"Alrighty, then," Barry cheered as he slowly pulled up in the driveway.

The Allen abode was snug in appearance: medium sized with a green vinyl outside, white trims, and perfectly pruned hedges. It almost reminded Wallace of his old home in Keystone.

After they had gotten married, the Allen couple had pooled their incomes to purchase a house within close vicinity of Central City to assist Iris with commuting to and fro from work. The neighborhood was homely; with kindly neighbors who always shared generous slices of freshly baked cake; and children who always flocked the streets selling lemonade in the summer time.

Barry helped Wallace carry his vintage valise up the stairs into a guestroom with light yellow walls. The house itself was sparsely decorated due to Iris' and Barry's hectic lifestyles and disregard for home décor, but the bedroom's simple twin bed with white sheets and empty closet made the rest of the house seem as fancy as the Palace of Versailles.

Not that Wallace minded, though he would have at least appreciated a splash of color to add a "homely" touch to the rather simple walls. The plainness reminded him too much of Gotham General, and _Artemis'_ hospital room.

For a second, Wallace wondered how the blonde biker was doing.

"Barry, do you think I could borrow a phone?" Wallace asked suddenly.

The blonde man stood up after setting the baggage on the bed and arched his back, producing a satisfying crack.

"Mhmm, we already called your Mom and Pops, if that's what you were wondering," Barry answered nonchalantly before proceeding to contort his neck in a rather _disturbing _fashion to produce another crack.

"No, you got it all wrong—I was wondering if I could call and let Linda know—"

Barry ginned widely, understanding where this conversation was going. To save his nephew the trouble of explaining "girl issues", the blonde man simply handed his phone with the customary teasing wink before heading downstairs.

Wallace smiled at Barry's considerate actions before rapidly dialing the number he knew by heart.

* * *

Truth be told, Wallace was unsure if Linda still liked him, or liked him at all for the matter. After his great transcontinental move to the east coast of Gotham, staying in touch had proven to be a great challenge. The last time he had messaged Linda was a week before school started—via Facebook—to help her with her physics homework (the Wall-man was a man of many sleights, not only chemistry). There had been small talk, remaining only platonic since Wallace thought it was quite rude to flirt digitally. Plus he was afraid of how a modest girl like Linda would react to such straightforwardness.

But it wasn't like he hadn't tried.

Wallace had typed up everything from smooth pick-up likes to haikus revolving around the unproclaimed attraction he had towards Linda before rapidly hitting the backspace until he was sure that his keyboard was broken. Sometimes, the hopeless ginger romantic wished that he possessed the eloquence of Cyrano de Bergerac, and the confidence of Christian de Neuvillette to woo his Roxanne.

The bell rung three times before a familiar voice interrupted.

"Hello? Linda here!"

God, he really did miss her sweet high-pitched voice— a great change from the huskiness that notorious blonde possessed.

"Hey, Linda! It's me, Wallace—Wally!" Wallace grimaced as his voice cracked, making him sound like the awkward thirteen-year-old he had been a mere three years ago.

A pause.

"Oh my god, Wally! Is it really you? So what's up? How's school? I'm so sorry we haven't been keeping in touch as often! Junior year is pretty frustrating at Keystone High. All the AP teachers have just been dumping us with homework," Linda replied affably. She sure knew how to get a casual conversation going—just another reason to like her in Wallace's book.

"Haha, it's great, Lin, I mean how much more annoying and polluted can Gotham get? Gotham Academy's great, especially all the classes. Keep me busy, especially the Chem course. But I still miss y—err—Keystone" Wallace replied, biting his tongue at his slip-up. Hopefully, Linda wouldn't notice.

"Aww! We miss you Wally! You should come and visit! The whole Science Department is _mourning _the loss of their _star pupil_" she added dramatically.

"Well, they have you now, Lin. I'm sure you're the star now!"

"Pshhhh, like I'd be able to be as good as the master."

Wallace blushed fondly at the playful exchange. He hadn't realized how much he had really missed the dark-haired girl and her small-talk.

"Listen, up Lin. Guess where I am now?" Wallace replied, biting his lower lip in excitement.

"Hmmm…I dunno, France?"

"Colder."

"Wally, you know I suck at these guessing games! At least give me a clue!" Linda pouted.

"Fine fine, I'll just tell you. I'm in Central City right now!"

Another pause.

"No. Way. WALLY! You should've told me! I mean _come_ _on, Wally_! You know me; I would've made a whole schedule—and would've seen you at the airport! I can't believe you didn't tell me sooner!" Linda replied, her tone slightly crestfallen. "So what's the occasion?"

"Eh, just some Forensic Seminar. 'Ya know. But I was wondering… I'm free tomorrow; do you want to like, I dunno, catch up? I was thinkin' about the outdoor Bistro by Central City Park." Wallace added. Central City Park Bistro was a quite the fancy place—complete with a dress code, as well as considerably priced dishes—just another way to impress Linda. Plus, he had his handy-dandy credit card at hand.

"Alright, Wallace. I'll be there, and you better give me all the deets about Gotham Academy. I heard some pretty famous people go there—like that Richard Blueson character. Super rich."

"You mean _Grayson_, and he's quite the _character_, I can guarantee that. So um, tomorrow at 6?"

"Sure!"

"Wear something pretty, but not too pretty. I don't want you outshining my attractiveness"

"Psh, are you doubting my wardrobe, ginger? Plus like your attractiveness has a chance over my glamour."

"You _wish_."

"Bye Wally," Linda added sarcastically.

"Bye Linda."

Wallace let out a great sigh as the line clicked. While calling after such a long time seemed awkward, Linda was sure to keep the mood light-hearted with her usual jokes and light banter. It was definitely refreshing after the gloom of Gotham. What was even more exciting was that Wallace now had a "date" to look forward to.

Who knew? This casual outing could escalate in something more.

* * *

"Yo Wally, are ya ready to get cho nerd on?" Barry's pseudo-gangsta voice echoed sounded from downstairs.

"Yeah! I've always had it on!" Wallace shouted back, stifling a chuckle at Barry's poorly imitated "ghetto-talk". Wallace had driven around the "ghetto" parts of Gotham and he was pretty sure that the people who resided there sounded nothing like that.

Wallace popped open his vintage leather suitcase and dug deep for his choice of clothing for the convention. He wanted to seem _intellectual_ while sporting something _comfortable_; conventions, especially science ones were notoriously long and dragged out and Wallace needed to feel mentally and physically comfortable while touring maze of stalls and shooting questions at the attractive females in lab coats.

Casual flirting with an older woman would never hurt anyone; he and Linda were nowhere near official. Heck, they hadn't even gone on their "casual dinner outing" yet.

After tossing aside at least a dozen designer sweater vests (he needed to pack extras _just in case_ of emergencies), the red-haired boy came across his prized possession—the pièce de résistance of his wardrobe: the ultimate Flash sweater vest… (hand-made by Grandma Joan). Without second thought, Wallace pulled the article over his head, and combed his hair in a side part before hurrying down the stairs.

He couldn't miss this prefect opportunity to pick up on key interesting facts he could use to impress Linda. Wallace finally decided that he had his unique way of being a contemporary Cyrano: with science factoids instead of heartfelt love notes. Who fell for those cheesy confessions nowadays? Science facts were the entire buzz anyways.

Barry let a wolf-whistle at the sight of Wallace.

"Love your shirt, kid. You sure are gonna be a lady-killer at the nerd convention," Barry guffawed as he noticed the large yellow insignia across Wallace's chest. "With an authentic piece like that, people are gonna start to think that your Flash's secret ID!"

"Thanks!" Wallace replied, out of breath. He still wasn't good at rushing his outfit and running down so quickly.

Him as the Flash? Wallace knew Barry was joshing; he also knew people were stupid at times (and Jersey Shore pretty much illustrated that) but one would simply have to be straight out _blind_ to even think for a second if Wallace West was the Flash.

The Flash didn't even seem like the nerdy-type. Probably just a fortunate individual gifted with a metagene or _alien_ race gifted with the speed of Mercury. The Flash was never bullied, and probably had taken on the civilian identity of a Police-man or Fire-fighter. How else would you explain the Scarlet Speedster's omniscience and punctual presence at every catastrophe to befall on Central City? (Well, he could be a psychic or God, but that's highly unlikely. Plus, Wallace had a gut-feeling). Heck, the superhero was probably off saving lives than attending a nerd convention.

_It would be pretty sweet if I were the Flash though. I would get any woman I want._ Wallace thought.

"So how 'bout that Linda chick? You guys hookin' up soon?" Barry questioned as he cranked up the classical music station.

So much for subtleness and privacy.

Among all the subjects Barry could have brought up, Linda just had to be one of them, to Wallace's dismay.

"Um, yeah! Well— I sorta kinda invited her on a "date"" Wallace replied, curling his index and middle fingers to gesticulate quotation marks. It wasn't a _real_ date after all, just a little something to play catch-up (and hopefully something to win Linda's heart along the way, Wallace hoped).

Barry tuned towards him nephew with sly look. The light was red so this was a perfect opportunity to make his nephew uncomfortable (Barry always found a strange satisfaction in that).

"That's wonderful, Wall-man! Soooo…'ya know the birds and bees, right?"

Wallace groaned.

An awkward discussion about dinner plans had transformed into an awkward discussion about the wonders of life. Wallace had no intention of hitting home with Linda, let alone pass first base. Linda wasn't that kind of girl. Linda was different (though Wallace's wet dreams indicated otherwise).

The ginger haired boy attempted to conjure something—anything into his mind to say, just enough to distract Barry (did he forget to mention that Barry was one of the unfortunate individuals who had a short attention span that rivaled even Wallace's?) from facts about protection and whatnot.

"Did you know that if you froze helium just a couple of degrees before its boiling point, you could create a helium super fluid, which exhibits strange qualities such as having the ability to scale walls?" Wallace blurted rapidly. He could practically feel his face flush and his heart throb in his throat as he awaited Barry's response.

The ginger boy mentally chided himself for going so off topic in the heat of the conversation. Seriously, what was he thinking? He was just as subtle as a _train wreck _for Newton's sake!

"Uh, that's cool," Barry replied sheepishly. He had already made Wallace uncomfortable enough.

"Uncle B, the light's green now.

"Oh, right."

* * *

The convention wasn't as large as Wallace had imagined it would be.

It was small rented space with a large department-store sized parking lot filled with large vans which belonged to the people hosting concession stands and panels. The occasional forensics-majoring college student in casual attire flitted around the lot, deciding whether it was a better option to go inside the air-conditioned building and learn about science or drive away in their old hand-me-down hardtops. Police officers leaned against the hoods of their cruisers chomping on donuts and reciting tall tales about handling eccentric offenders. Science conventions weren't exactly known for their high attendance.

Then there was Uncle Barry.

The blonde man bore a large gaping smile on his face that forced Wallace to crack a pathetic grin in return. Insulting this joke of a convention would be like kicking a puppy. Yes, Wallace had expected something bigger, more exclusive—not bored teens and fat police officers.

Barry matched his gait with Wallace's and slapped the ginger boy hard on the back. "So, what do ya think, Wally? It's great isn't it?"

Wallace watched as a bored old man in a lab-coat pulled a gray trolley filled with chemicals before turning to his overly excited uncle.

"Uh yeah! I'm _super _excited!" Wally replied with feigned gusto, raising his fist halfheartedly.

Barry gave him a warm look as they proceeded towards the entrance.

Barry stopped when he felt the vibration of his phone through his pant pocket. "Wait hold on, gotta a call," Barry interjected.

Wallace nodded in compliance and proceeded to look around the large room.

They had been inside for a good half hour browsing through the pretty empty stalls. It was like any other science convention, a couple of enthusiasts: those who wanted to kill time and others who simply were there because they were forced to. Small tables were set displaying various techniques of extracting DNA, finding quality finger prints on the vaguest of surfaces, and of course free forensic themed snacks. Wallace was sure that they were serving homemade gummy magnifying glasses and cupcakes topped with Benedict Cumberbatch heads as homage to the renowned detective: Sherlock Holmes.

"Ok, yeah, I'll be there."

Barry shut his phone and looked pensively at Wallace. Something was quite wrong.

Almost instinctively, Wallace's mind drifted to the worst-case scenarios that could occur. Had something tragic befallen on his parents when he wasn't around? Did something happen to Aunt Iris? Or worse—Linda? Already perspiration had begun to form on Wallace's forehead as his mind shaped images of mangled bodies and fires he had seen on the news. He had only seen one accident personally: Artemis', and luckily she was still alive. But he knew that not everyone shared that fate.

"Look Kid, I have horrible news," Barry started, attempting to phrase his words as euphemistically as possible.

"AreMomandDadokay?" Wallace blurted frantically.

Barry was silent for a heartbeat before letting out a deep bellow. He slapped Wallace's back teasingly.

Hard.

"You 'lil worry wart!" Barry chuckled. "I was just saying that some urgent work came up and I have to leave. You'll have to explore the world of forensics without your spirit guide!"

Wallace blinked twice before relaxing. His heat still beat fast from the scare, but this time he was slightly annoyed at Barry's exaggerated sarcasm. And here he had his briefs in a bunch thinking that something bad really had happened! Besides that, he was certain that he was going to bruise on his back. Who knew a lab-rat like Barry could be so strong (then again, Barry had probably hit the gym to impress Aunt Iris)?

To be honest, Wallace could care less about the forensics convention. Its banal reality had been a stark contrast of what he imagined it would be like. All the facts and activities weren't new, just repeated tidbits he had caught on upon while watching the Investigation Discovery Channel. He would rather go home and pick out his attire for the "date". Or rummage around Barry's basement lab for some chemicals whose possession required a license. No big deal.

"Nah, it's alright Uncle B, you can just drop me off. It won't be the same without you."

Barry looked upset and Wallace felt guilt. Knowing his Barry, he was probably going to blame Wallace's disinterest on himself.

"Ugh. This is all my fault," Barry groaned, pulling his hand across his face in frustration. "You came all the way from _Gotham_ for this fantastic convention, and now you can't enjoy it because of me."

Barry paused from his apology and perked up suddenly, as if a fantastic notion had hit him. "Tell you what, I'll make this up to you—what would you like?"

_Hmm… This could go quite well…_ Wallace thought.

"It's okay Barry, I know it isn't your fault. But you know what would make me feel better?" Wallace cajoled.

Oh yes, Wallace West was going to have a blast using that _diamino dinitrobenzofuroxan_.

* * *

"Well, the lab's all yours, Wall-man!" Barry gestured majestically to his decent-sized basement laboratory.

The lab was messier compared to Wallace's lab in his Gotham home, with a small work bench corroded and splatted with remains of previous experiments. There were various vales filled with various chemicals (five of which Wallace recognized as being illegal in 10 US states) and state-of-the-art government supplied instruments, from a bomb-calorimeter to a cathode tube. The room was well-lit with incandescent recessed lights to allow for efficiency in experiment-conducting.

"Well, as long as you don't mess with my work stuff, or blow up my home, you are free to use whatever you like! Well, based your Chemistry grades, I think you can combine some "special" chemicals together. Just make sure you write out the reaction and any precipitates that ma—"

"Uncle Barry, I know what I'm doing, so don't worry!" Wallace raised his voice, and put his hands on Barry's shoulders to cease the blonde's incessant rambles. Once Barry started, he talked so fast that it became nearly impossible to capture his attention. There was only one person who could effectively break the trace: Aunt Iris, and that was with a kiss. Now, Wallace wasn't about to kiss his Uncle. Luckily, the red haired teen had been successful this time around or else Barry would have drifted into talking about quantum mechanics and scientific hell would've broken loose.

Normally Wallace wouldn't have minded an intellectual exchange with his Uncle, but right now messing with some "less-than-legal" chemicals were all on the ginger's mind. While "normal" teenagers experimented with Crack and Heroin, Wallace Rudolph West was in his Uncle's Basement Laboratory playing with chemicals, and he was proud of it.

"Ah! Oh sorry, Wall," Barry chuckled nervously. "Alrighty! I guess I'll head to—work, now!" Barry cheered as he thumped his way up the stairs.

When he heard the front door slam shut, Wallace almost speeded to the lab coat hook, and proceeded to cover himself with latex gloves, a fresh white lab coat, and of course, the goggles (he always liked to say, "Safety first, kids!").

"Okay then, I will combine—"Wallace hummed to himself pleasantly as he grabbed the electronic scale and graduated cylinder. Usually, in school labs, it was Artemis who was responsible for the menial tasks such as gathering all the supplies and measuring out the chemicals needed. Wallace was not a patient persona and it frustrated him further when the scale fluctuated between two values. He always loved to measure out the precise amount of anything so that their lab would have the least percent error. Luckily, Artemis had been gifted with the fantastic ability of measuring out the exact amount, as well as getting the scale to function properly. Besides her lack of interest in the subject, Wallace had been satisfied with her performance as a lab "assistant", more or less (she wasn't exactly a "partner", per say).

Reminiscing on his past encounters with lab partners/assistants, Wallace almost forgot about Linda. Linda had been his lab partner for a good part of the AP Chem year. Sure, she was his _partner_, but as much as he hated to admit it, she wasn't exactly "perfect".

Wallace chuckled at the memory when Linda had mixed up the two hydrates required for the lab. The error had a comical result, complete with smoke and fire extinguishers. Obviously, the two were required to redo it, which wasn't so bad considering they had been alone afterschool while their teacher was next door flirting away.

Comparing past mistakes to the present, Wallace had to begrudgingly admit that at least Artemis knew what she was doing, and thus, sadly was a better partner—err, _assistant_ than Linda was.

"Okay, here's the 'lil sucker I was looking for," Wallace beamed. He had finally spotted the vile of _diamino dinitrobenzofuroxan_ he had wanted to use ever since he had set foot again in the Midwest. The tiny bottle rest next to a queer gray safe, one which Wallace suspected contained rarer substances.

A very suspicious safe.

Now, Wallace was a good boy, taught not to pry in other peoples' business.

But _this_ was _very_ different. This opportunity had practically had presented itself to him. By not discovering what lay inside the safe would be a horrible, horrible crime. And Wallace knew crimes weren't good either.

To open or not to open, that was the question.

Then again, when was the last time he had cracked a safe?

Oh yeah, that would be never.

Still, Wallace was persistent. It wasn't like he was going to use the chemical or whatever rare element was inside. He would simply gaze at it, or touch it (if it wasn't radioactive). Knowing Uncle Barry, it was probably nothing special. The worse-case scenario—heaven forbid—would be that it was something forensics related. After the _fantastic_ convention Wallace had attended, the red haired scientist was satisfied, thank you very much. Forensics was only interesting when CSI or Cumberbatch were involved.

Now for the combination itself.

What could be the combination? Barry was a simple-minded man when it came to these domestic things. Heck, Wallace had easily cracked the wi-fi code his first time visiting the Allen abode (it was sci-fi). However while Barry could throw a pitiful pun for internet-access, he couldn't pull that one with numbers. The combination had to be something easy to remember, like a birthday, or anniversary. According to Aunt Iris Barry was a hopeless romantic, bringing flowers she was allergic on their dinner dates. Part of the reason as to why the woman dated the blonde man was pity; the other half being his good intentions and adorable nerdiness (Wallace might've read his aunt's text messages when she let him borrow her phone way-back-when). Barry's try-hard attitude regarding romance could be another reason as to why the combination was an important date; the man could now remember and keep track of an anniversary every time he wanted to get whatever was locked!

"Okay, so I _think_ they first met up in November, after my birthday…" Wallace muttered to himself as he meticulously turned the blue dial.

_Click!_

Wallace mentally lauded himself as well as Barry's carelessness at the poorly executed combination. Brushing away his self-satisfaction, Wallace carefully peered inside the case.

"Wow. All that hard work for a bunch of lame files," Wallace groaned. He had not seen that one coming. Well, _"Hello Wally!_", didn't Barry work as a forensics detective? Of course the contents of the safe would be some boring criminal records and such. Wallace almost felt like smacking his head on the wall at his stupidity

With a groan and a roll of his eyes, Wallace reluctantly grabbed the bottom-most file of the pile.

It looked like any old manila file, brimming with papers. However, to the young scientist's surprise, this was not a forensic file.

Nope, not at all.

"Experimental research? Accelerated molecules? Create the solution, stabilize it with a shock of 10 volts…" Wallace read slowly. By the sound of it, it was a complex experiment, unless this was a forensic procedure. Then again, which forensic procedure involved using chemicals even Wallace was unfamiliar with?

The _diamino dinitrobenzofuroxan _would have to wait, since there was a newer task at hand.

* * *

Wallace dipped one end of the electrode into the solution, which had now transformed into a bright viridian color. He had spent nearly two hours putting together this experiment without a break. According to the calculations he had made prior to conducting the experiment, he was pretty sure that nothing that drastic would occur as the result. In fact, Wallace was quite unsure of what would happen, if anything happened at all. This experiment was just a mere challenge to brush up on his lab skills. If this was some super _top secret _procedure, why would Barry leave the files locked up a case in his _house_ with such an _easy _combination?

"Okay, five volts," Wallace breathed as he adjusted the knob. Deep inside, he was worried about the consequences. What if this was a dangerous experiment?

"Nah, I've done the math. After stabilization, I'm pretty sure the color will change," Wallace shrugged.

With the turn of the dial, there was a bright white light. The table was blown towards Wallace, sending him to the ground. A dull ache and tingling sensation coursed through his body and his vision was swallowed by darkness.

* * *

**Well I guess Wally wasn't as right as he thought he was! Man, I'm super worried about the episode that comes on after the hiatus… Knowing Grandon, it will be quite… memorable. My shipper heart can't take the stress! *grabs life alert* **


End file.
